


And a Bottle of Scotch

by kappa77



Series: And A Bottle of Scotch [1]
Category: MindCrack
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Fluff and Angst and Humor, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pirates, Slow Build, past mentions of whipping, sword fights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kappa77/pseuds/kappa77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mindcrackers are pirates on the high seas, divided on to two ships, Kurt has a compass which is a little bit magic, and everyone on board is a BAMF.<br/> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Man Overboard!

Contrary to popular belief, a pirate's life isn't all pillaging and plundering. There's a lot more sailing and drinking and bartering and drinking and waiting for ships to pass and... was drinking mentioned?

Anyway, point being that a pirate's life isn't always filled with action.

Currently, _The Mindrack_ was drifting through the Atlantic after dropping off to port to pick up supplies. Zisteau, the ship’s carpenter and doctor, was lounging around on deck, with nothing else better to do than idly polish his equipment and gaze out at the ocean.

The water was a dark blue, but was still relatively clear. From where Zisteau was situated, he could see large schools off fish nearing the large pirate ship then quickly swim away in fear of the shadows it cast.

Zisteau grinned at the thought. Yes, _The Mindcrack_ and her crew were a force to be reckoned with. They were certainly not the most fearsome pirates, no, that honor felt to _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ and, in a close second place, _The Emerald_. Even so, _The Mindcrack_ was known for being ruthless in stealing from merchants and other less fearsome pirates. All goods of importance were taken and rarely any survivors left.

At that thought, Zisteau toyed with the scabbard at his side.

_And anyone who is left… is never the same._

However, today was not a day for pillaging or whatever. Today, Zisteau thought with a small smile on his face, was a day for relaxing, as would the next couple of weeks would be.

_But... I would like a bit of action. Nothing big, just something to keep us on our toes._

So when Baj, who was situated in the crow’s nest, yelled out, "Oi! There's a guy in the water! Starboard side!” everyone on deck was surprised as they ran over.

Zisteau was one of the first people to get there and after a second of looking, he spotted a figure in a white shirt, lying on what looked to be a scrap of a ship's siding. He was about 30 yards from the ship. His head was down so it was unclear whether or not the man was alive at all.

"Should we bring him in?" Avidya asked from Zisteau's right.

The crew the erupted in to murmurs of whether to bring the person out up onto the ship or not. Just by tuning into a few people's conversations, it was clear to Z that the men were divided on the issue.

_This won't get resolved until Captain Guude gets here... but who knows when he'll get on deck._

Looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to him (no one was), he shed his dark brown leather vest, shirt, and leather boots and carefully placed them on deck. Double checking that no one noticed him, he leaped over the side of the ship and into the calm ocean below.

 _Shit!_ The water was much colder than he had expected. It felt like a thousand needles pressing on his chest and head and he was thankful he became numb to the feeling quickly.

 _Really hope my gut is right about this._ As he surfaced, he heard the last bits of "Man overboard."

He chuckled to himself as he swam toward the figure. _Now THAT will get the Captain's attention._

When Z finally reached the figure, he was able to tell that the person was a man and he was alive ( _Thankfully_ ) by the rising of his chest, but completely knocked out. The man had brown hair that was clumped up and matted down by the salt water, and all in all looked more fit to work on a merchant ship than a pirate ship ( _Please let he not be a member of His Majesty's Navy_ ). From this angle, the man didn't look very buff, but Z had learned from experience not to judge people by their looks. What was left of the man's ripped shirt was dirty and it was clear that there were long scars running up the man's back. Zisteau shook his head, dispelling any images he had conjured up of how the man could've gotten those scars. _Just get him on deck, maybe he'll tell you how he got them when he wakes up._ He hooked the man's arm around his shoulders and his arm around the man's waist just as Pause and Doc came up in a rowboat.

"Took you long enough!" Zisteau called out to them, a smirk on his face. The first mate, Pause, smirked for a second, then quickly wiped it off.

_Lighten up guy, seriously._

He hauled up the unconscious man first, and then allowed himself to be pulled up. Pause and Doc shared a look before bringing the man up and laying him half on one of the benches in the small boat. Once Z was seated, he quickly got cuffed in the back of the head. Hard. By Pause.

"Hey! That actually hurt!" Zisteau exclaimed, rubbing the spot on his head Pause had hit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe next time you shouldn't jump off the side of the fucking ship to save some mystery man! Geeze Z, I thought you had more sense in that brain of yours!" He made a move to smack Zisteau again, but he put his hands up and was able to block it.

"Okay, okay I get it. I just... had a feeling in my gut," Z mumbled the last bit, looking at the bottom of the rowboat.

Pause looked at him with his eyes wide and jaw slack. "You-you had a feeling... in your gut?! Why would you risk your fucking life over some man you just saw in the water?! On a fucking gut feeling!"

Zisteau ignored him and instead grabbed a length of rope underneath the bench he was sitting on. They were nearing _The Mindcrack_ and he knew he would get no help from Doc or Pause with helping the man on board ( _In their defense, I did just jump over board_ ). When they reached the ship, there was already a ladder waiting for them. As his crew mates climbed up the ladder, Zisteau loosely tied the man to his shoulder ( _wow this man is skinny_ ), so he wouldn't have to worry about dropping the unconscious man. With the man secure, Zisteau made his slow decent up.

When he finally reached the deck, he was greeted with glares from most of the crew. The most menacing came, of course, from Captain Guude who was standing front and center of the crew. He was dressed in his usual dark green coat with gold trim surrounding the buttons and pockets. The black tricorne that was usually tilted on his head in a half-hazarded matter was not there at all. Instead the blue bandanna that was usually peeking out of the hat was all that was on the captain's head. Zisteau had to bite down a smile because that was a dead giveaway he had caused Guude to panic and rush out of his quarters. The smile went down when he realized that Guude's belt, that usually held two pistols and two cutlasses, was missing a sword... because it was gripped firmly in his hand. A brief flash of possessiveness toward the man on his shoulder coursed through him along with thoughts of _No way you're getting your hands on him._

"Captain," Zisteau nodded in his general direction, "I will collect whatever punishment you plan on giving me as soon as I take care of this man."

Not waiting for Guude's approval, Zisteau untied the man and set him on the deck. It wasn't the most sanitary of places, but his shoulder was aching now. He could feel the crew lean in over him as he rubbed his shoulder.

_Really need to get him to sickbay so I can check on his vitals._

He was jerked from his thoughts of how to get the man down to sickbay without being seen when Mhykol knelt down and pointed to the unconscious man's left sleeve.

"What's that on his arm?" he asked.

Zisteau carefully rolled up the wet sleeve revealing the most intricate tattoo work anyone on _The Mindcrack_ had ever seen. By his shoulder, there was a large sun with runes outlining the edge. The rest of his forearm was covered in the most vibrate blues and violets in the most interesting swirls and patterns. Near his wrist, white clouds faded into black ruins and illegible words.

Zisteau absentmindedly rubbed his own tattoos as Captain Guude knelt next to him.

"Shiver me timbers," the captain mumbled as the crew drew closer. There was no denying it, only one person was known to have such an extraordinary sleeve of tattoos...

With a sudden clap on Zisteau's shoulder, Captain Guude smiled and looked to his men, "Well look at this, Zisteau here has caught us the navigator of _The Emerald_ , Kurt J Mac."


	2. In the Sickbay

The crew suddenly erupted with noise.

“ **The** Kurt J Mac?”

“The one known as the Iron Kurtain? The Farlander?”

“From _The Emerald_? The ship we just fought a month ago?”

“I heard his compass was enchanted by Calypso!”

“They say he has such a vast knowledge of the skies that he’s actually from up there.”

As the men continued to talk about the mysterious man, Zisteau was able to redress. It was only when he turned his collar up in his usual fashion that he noticed the captain was still looking at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Like what ya see?” Zisteau joked as he shrugged on his vest.

Guude rolled his eyes. “So,” Guude started, completely ignoring his comment, “wanna help me drag this guy into the brig?”

_No. No, no, no, no way this guy is going to the brig... But he’s from the most feared pirate ship on the seven seas! He’s a criminal! … So are you! You’re probably worse than he is. He’s just the navigator of the ship. You’ve killed people!_

Zisteau shook his head, pushing the bad thoughts to the back of his head. He hated when the self-deprecating thoughts resurfaced. It always meant he would never get to sleep that night.

As Zisteau cleared his mind, a thought popped up, possibly the most rational one he had all day.

“No,” he finally said.

Guude raised an eyebrow. “No?” he mimicked.

“He’s been in open water for at least a day. I need to check up on him first.”

Zisteau did have a point. He was the ship’s surgeon. Even though that didn’t mean he was at all qualified to do anything but saw off limbs, he was the most qualified to do anything related to anything medical out of everyone on the ship.

“Why can’t you just check up on him in the brig?”

Zisteau scoffed, “Have you **seen** it lately? It’s filthy. We never use it, we’re not the sort that does that. No one ever bothers to clean it because we’d rather throw the bastards into the sea! No, I’m not examining him in there.”

Guude eyed him up and down, but Zisteau didn’t back down. Guude finally let out a sigh, “Fine, I’ll let you check him out, but I’m gonna get Jsano to clean the brig, so he’s going in there… unless you have good reason for him not to.”

Zisteau nodded, “Aye aye capt’n!”

Guude nodded and grabbed Kurt’s feet while Zisteau grabbed under his arms. They lifted him easily and were able to maneuver through the crew, who were still talking amongst themselves. When they reached the bottom of the first set of stairs below deck, Guude set down the still-unconscious man’s feet and made motion for Zisteau to stay. He then ran up the steps, green coat flowing behind him.

Zisteau winced as he heard Guude roar, “GET BACK TO WORK YA LAZY SEA DOGS!”

Guude came back down, smiling, “I’ll never get tired of doing that.”

Zisteau rolled his eyes as Guude grabbed the m- Kurt's legs again. It was obvious to anyone who had been aboard _The Mindcrack_ for a long time that no matter how much the captain screamed or threatened, he was willing to lay down his life for his crew. Likewise the crew was willing to do the same for each other and the captain. 

Of course, if any member did end up saving him, Guude would have to, as he put it, "Save your sorry ass from trying to save my sorry ass."

Zisteau was dragged out of his thoughts when his back finally hit the door to the sickbay, which was also his room. Using his elbow, he was able to open the door without jostling the m- Kurt too much. _Kurt, his name is Kurt. You might as well get used to calling him that._

The room was a relatively small one, with most of the room being taken by the wooden table in the center that was bolted to the floor. An “L” shaped counter with cabinets on the bottom hugged the left wall and the wall in front of the door. In the cabinets was all of the equipment Zisteau needed as well as his own personal belongings. The well worn-out hammock he slept in every night was in the right corner closest to the door.

It was easy, placing Kurt onto the table, so Guude left shortly. However, he reminded Zisteau of their “deal”. The surgeon simply waved him off.

Now alone, he turned to Kurt, whose limbs were dangling off the sides of the table, and mumbled, "He's gone. You can wake up now."

Nothing. No movement what so ever.

_Dammit. I wish that would've worked._

He knew there wasn't much he could do without the man awake, so he flipped the man over and hiked up the remains of his tattered shirt.

_I aught to just cut the rest away, there's barely anything left of it._

But he didn't. Any and all thoughts were dispersed from Zisteau's mind when he saw the scars on Kurt's back.

There were three long, deep red lines running down Kurt's back with a half dozen faded lines as well, all about the same thickness. Even though a whip had never been used on The Mindcrack, it was easy to tell that’s what had created the scars. Before coming on to this ship; Zisteau had worked with other people who had plenty of scars from whippings, brandings, or even the one person he had met who had survived a keel hauling and had a back full of red, angry scars to prove it.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he had the sudden urge to be thankful he ended up on _The Mindcrack_ and not on _The Emerald_. 

It took him a moment, but eventually he got back on track, wrapping any fresh cuts in gauze. Most of the cuts were sterilized, but irritated by the salt water.

Finally, when he had done all he could do while Kurt was still unconscious; he took a seat on his small hammock and waited.


	3. No Way You're Wolfie

At the sound of his door creaking open, Zisteau woke up from the nap he had accidentally taken. His brief sleep had been filled with thoughts of the man not 5 feet away from him. He shook his head, getting rid of any remaining bits of dream and looked up.

There was no one at the door.

He was going to mark it as the wind when something rubbed against his leg. He looked down and smiled.

"Hey Vechs, how ya doing?" he said, leaning down to scratch the cat's ears. The red tabby only purred in response.

"You seem happier than normal. Did you get to Pause again?" Somehow, starting from the day he ambled onto the ship, Vechs had made it his mission to either scratch Pause or scare the living crap out of him. He usually succeeded, which led to Pause going on long rants of how "that cat" was evil. No one argued against him.

The cat looked at Zisteau with his green eyes as he meandered into the middle of the room, right where the examining table was. He got on his hind legs and-

Zisteau started to get out of the hammock, "No Vechs, don't!"

But before he could reach him, Vechs leaped onto the table and landed right on Kurt's family jewels.

He would've let out a long string of curses, but he heard a soft, "oof!" and was promptly frozen in place. The next few moments seemed to go in slow motion. First, a blink. Then, the man on the table lifted his head just enough to see the cat that had by now made his way up to his chest. When the man on the table finally spoke, it was barely a whisper, "You. Are **not** Wolfie."

 _Actually, his name is Vechs._ The man's head turned toward Zisteau as he quickly got on to his elbows, finally noticing the other man. Their eyes met and Z was taken aback at how brown they were, the deepest brown he had ever seen. Had they been outside, Zisteau wouldn't have been surprised if they sparkled in the sunlight, but they looked pretty spectacular with just the couple of gas lamps.

"Shit, I said that out loud, didn't I," Zisteau said, realizing he had voiced his comment about the cat, which was still on Kurt's chest. The man on the table only nodded hesitantly.

 _Fuck my mouth._ Zisteau found himself rubbing the back of his neck, feeling more like the examined one than the man on the table.

"Well then," Zisteau started, barely making eye contact with the man on the table "Welcome aboard _The Mindcrack_. We-I found ya floating on a piece of wood in the middle of the ocean and brought ya in. Captain Guude isn't very pleased with ya being here and wants ya in the brig as soon as possible." And then, because he couldn't not hide the medical part of him, he added, "Ya seem to have taken no major damage from being out in the goddamn ocean. Only a few minor cuts that got irritated from the salt water."

There was silence for a moment. Zisteau could practically hear the other man thinking, his thoughts moving from one to another at the speed of 20 knots.

Finally the man cleared his throat and quietly said, "Then I guess there's only one thing I can say."

Zisteau looked at him straight in the eye, ignoring the part of his brain that was admiring the man's smooth voice and _why the hell hadn't I noticed that when he first spoke?_

And with a little gleam in his eyes, the man on the table simply said, "Parley."


	4. Did He Just Say That?

"Guude isn’t going to like this," Zisteau mumbled for maybe the thousandth time. After Kurt requested an audience with the captain with that one damn word, he had quickly made the excuse that the captain has to accept the parley before any meeting is to be made. He left for the deck quickly, leaving Kurt in the ward (which might seem reckless, but Vechs was with him, and Zisteau had the sneaking suspicion that Vechs wouldn't let Kurt leave the room).

Zisteau knocked twice on the door to the captain's quarters. Even through the door, Guude's reply of "Come in!" could be heard quite clearly.

As he opened the door, he had to take yet another look at the captain's quarters. It was by no means large, but it was the largest room on the ship. What really fascinated Zisteau was how messy the room was. The dark wood table in the middle of the room was covered in papers and quills, with a small ring around the candle that was free of papers. The cabinets behind the desk were over flowing with random crap, completely disorganized. The only part of the room that was neat was the bed in the far right corner. There were barely any wrinkles on the red blankets, pulled taut and tucked underneath the mattress.

Guude was sitting behind the desk, chair tilted back, feet propped on the desk. His tricorne was tilted to the right and his coat was gone, revealing the lighter green button down he usually wore. He dropped whatever paper he had been looking at, now eyeing Zisteau.

“Hey guy! How’s the prisoner?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What do you think?” Zisteau replied, his tone completely monotone.

 Guude shrugged and when he didn’t make another remark, Zisteau continued.

“Kurt J Mac wants to talk with you. He wants parley.”

Guude’s feet immediately dropped from the table and the front legs of his chair hit the ground with a soft “thunk”.

“Damn guy,” Guude groaned, “Fine, send ‘im in.”

_Oh, whoops._

“He… he’s still in sickbay.”

“Well then go get the guy. And make sure he’s decent!”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Zisteau said as he walked out.

_Like I would send Kurt in half naked._

When Zisteau returned to the sickbay, he’s surprised with what he sees. Kurt is no longer on the table or in his ratty shirt. Instead, he’s wearing what Zisteau assumed was one of his own old white-button downs and a dark blue waist coat. Vechs has now taken his spot on the table and he is standing up, looking around the room. his hand on the table for support. He didn’t want to startle Kurt, so he settled on clearing his throat. Kurt still spun around quickly, almost banging his upper thigh in the table.

“Oh, crap, I hope you don’t mind that I… well, borrowed some of your clothes. My shirt was all ripped up and, um, there was really no way to… you know, repair it,” Kurt said in a rush.

“No, no. It’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to go up to the captain in what you were wearing,” Zisteau said, swallowing thickly because _fuck, Kurt looks good in a waistcoat._

Of course as soon as he thought that, he immediately pushed it away. _Remember what happened last time? I’m not being put in prison for another six months just because you can’t keep your… whatever this is, to yourself._ Zisteau knew from past experience that most of his thoughts of “He’s handsome” would go away soon enough if he just ignored them.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized he was staring at the other man. Kurt raised an eyebrow, but didn’t mention it.

“Uh, the captain will see you know.”

“Um, yeah, indeed,” Kurt nodded with a nervous look across his face.

Zisteau led him to the captain’s quarters. They were silent the whole way. When they entered, Guude had transformed into the picture of the perfect captain. His hat was no longer tilted and his coat was on and looked immaculate as ever. The cutlasses that Zisteau hadn’t even seen when he entered before were now laid out of the table in front of him, their blue hilts glittering in the candle light. He looked like he could lead a whole armada of ships, even though he was several inches shorter than Z or Kurt.

Kurt immediately straightened up when he went into the room and the nervous expression was, for the most part, gone from his face. There was only a small glimmer in his eyes that gave away his anxiety of talking with the captain.

Kurt gave a small nod to Guude, “Captain.”

Guude just looked at him as he said, “Kurt J Mac.  What did you want to discuss?”

By now, Z had moved toward the wall behind Kurt, and could barely see the deep breath he took in.

“How long do you plan on keeping me in the brig?”

There was a beat of silence before Guude replied, “What’s it to you?”

“It’s just that I don’t see any point to it. _The Mindcrack_ is a pirate ship and not a part of His Majesty’s Navy. There’s no reason to put me in the brig unless you plan on releasing me and I have a feeling you won’t risk losing this ship, so you won’t make prolonged stops near places where you could get caught.”

Another beat. “Then what do you think I should do with you?” Guude said, running a finger along the sheathed blade of one of his swords.

“I, um, want to be a part of the crew.”

_What?_

The room was dead silent, save for the muffled voices outside and crashing waves. Guude had a death grip on the sword he was just stroking. Something told Zisteau that the captain would rather his hands be on Kurt’s neck.

“Why should I let you be a part of my crew? The crew I would trust with my life?” Guude had barely managed to keep the rage out of his voice and it was obvious in the way his grip tightened.

Kurt ducked his head before looking the captain straight in the eye. “Because I’m not going back to _The Emerald_ while I’m still living and breathing. I’ll, uh, share all the information I know about it. Oh, um, also I’ve been told I’m the best navigator on the seven seas. And I’m pretty accurate with a pistol.”

More silence. Zisteau was pretty impressed with how brave Kurt was, even if he did trip over his words. Not many people on the ship could ask for something so outrageous right to the captain’s face.

Kurt continued, in what was barely a whisper, “Let me at least, um, prove myself? Please?”

“Well then,” Guude said suddenly, making Kurt visibly jump a little, “Since you said please. Come out on the deck early tomorrow and I’ll see what you can do.”

Then Guude looked at Zisteau, “And you’ll be accompanying him. Let him sleep in your bunk for the night.”

Both men nodded with a quick, “Aye!”, and left the room. Neither man said anything, but when Zisteau snuck a glance, he could see the barely contained smile on Kurt’s face.


	5. Crack Shot

For dinner that night, Zisteau brought Kurt the salted meat and hardtack biscuits from the mess deck, which was a level lower than sick bay. Kurt was reluctant to just sit and wait with Vechs, but they both agreed it was for the better. _Who knows how the crew would react to eating with a man from the enemy ship?_

With all that happened today in mind, Zisteau was still a bit taken aback when he entered the mess hall and all the conversations stopped for a second. It wasn’t until he grabbed two portions of meat and biscuits from the cook, Mhykol, and shut the door that the talking resumed. There was still talk of Kurt amongst the crew, but it was clear that no one had heard that Kurt was going to, essentially, try out to be a part of the crew. Except for maybe Pause, he might have known. _Damn guy always has such a smug look on his face._

Zisteau had his hands full with dinner, so he ended up having to knock on the door with his elbow. Kurt opened it quickly. He nodded his head in thanks and placed the food on the table in the middle of the room where Vechs was sleeping.

“Get off, ya freaking cat,” Zisteau said, pushing Vechs slightly. The cat didn’t move a muscle.

“Fine,” Zisteau mumbled, and then turned to Kurt, “Hope you don’t mind not being able to sit and eat.”

“No, no it’s fine. Um, do you have any liquor?” Kurt said, breaking off a piece of the biscuit.

Zisteau couldn’t help smiling. “Of course.” He put down his food on the table and reached into one of the cabinets below the counter. “Hope you don’t mind scotch,” he said, pulling out said bottle.

“Not at all. What type?”

“Single malt scotch.”

Kurt snorted lightly, which Zisteau mentally high-fived himself for. “I used to be the only one on the ship that liked that type of scotch.”

Zisteau didn’t say anything in reply, just took a quick swig then passed the bottle to Kurt, who took a significantly longer drink. Zisteau didn’t mind at all.

They ate their meal in silence, the only noise coming from the sea outside and Vechs, purring when Kurt gave him bits of his pork.

_Hmm, he usually doesn’t purr for anyone but me… Maybe it’s the smell of fish on him._

After they had finished their dinner and drained what had been a half-full bottle, Zisteau helped Kurt set up the spare hammock in the opposite corner after Kurt had turned down his offer to sleep on the floor while Kurt took his hammock (“If anything, **I** should be the one on the floor.”). Zisteau’s dreams that night were filled with blue, purple, and white clouds covering a golden sun.

~~

Breakfast went much the same as dinner, but with less staring from the crew when Zisteau got breakfast (it was the same as dinner).

Guude never specified exactly how “early” to meet with him, so when they had finished their bread and taken one last drink of a new bottle of scotch, they walked straight up to the deck.

When they emerged from below deck, Zisteau was immediately taken back by the stillness of it all. There was no wind filling the sails; _The Mindcrack_ was drifting aimlessly at sea. There were also not a lot of crew men working. Zisteau only recognized Etho, Baj and Avidya as well as 3 other men working around the deck. Guude, Pause and Beef were also on deck, but they weren’t working, they were waiting. _For us, obviously._ All three were standing behind a simple wooden table covered in weapons; pistols, revolvers, and cutlasses of all types.

Guude was as immaculate as he was before, looking ever the captain. His first and second mates however were significantly less clean. First mate Beef had on a dark gray shirt with a white vest on that was covered in blood stains and dark blue trousers. His sword was strapped to his leather belt, hung loosely on his waist. Second mate Pause had… significantly less on than Guude or Beef. He had no shirt on and rarely ever did, unless it was extremely hot or cold. He was wearing light brown pants with red and blue accents, although most were hidden in dirt.

When Kurt and Zisteau had reached the table, Beef had locked eyes on Kurt and was examining him closely. After Kurt had nodded his head in hello to the captain, a sudden look of realization had dawned across Beef’s face and he burst out laughing.

The other men looked to the first mate, who by now was laughing so hard, he was gripping on to the table for dear life.

“What? Did I miss something?” Kurt asked hesitantly.

_I think we all missed it._

Beef finally stopped laughing, gasping for air. “S-Sorry for that, I,” Beef let out a small giggle, “I didn’t expect to see the guy who made me invalid for a while.”

Guude’s eyebrows shot up, “Wait, so Kurt J Mac-“

“Is the guy who shot me twice in the legs, even though he was all the way on the other side of the ship? Yep!” Beef held out a hand to Kurt with a large grin on his face, “Blood Baron Beef, at your service.”

Kurt shook his hand tentatively, “Um, Kurt J Mac, although you already knew that.”

Beef chuckled, “Yep. Did you know that I had to be bodily carried off the ship cause I could barely walk?”

Kurt shook his head as Zisteau groaned inwardly, thoughts from that day resurfacing. _The Emerald_ had sprung an attack out of nowhere a couple of months ago, and the fighting had somehow moved from _The Mindcrack_ to _The Emerald._ It had been an unfair fight from the start, so it was just short of a miracle that so many people left with their lives. However, there were a lot of wounded and it was ingrained in Zisteau’s memory (and muscles) the sound of Beef’s scream, having to carry him off the ship with the help of Paul Soares (and, looking back on the memory now, glancing over and briefly seeing the navigator who shot Beef), and then pulling out one of the bullets for his leg.

Yeah, not the most fantastic memories.

Zisteau shook his thoughts away just as Beef was closing off whatever conversation he was having with Kurt.

“Okaaaaaaaay, now that that’s over with, let’s get to the tests!” Pause said, obviously getting impatient.

Guude nodded, grabbed a sword off the table, and handed it over to Kurt, “First test, you against me in a free-for-all. We stop at the first draw of blood.”

_No wonder he made me come along._

Kurt unsheathed the blade silently, moving toward the open space near the middle of the deck. Zisteau cringed inwardly when he saw that the blade looked like it was made of gold. Any self-respecting pirate knew that the golden blades were the most poorly made. They dulled quickly and were more likely to break in a fight. The best sword was, of course, like the one Guude had in his hand- the one with a blue hilt. However, those were the hardest to come by and the hardest to make, so most people on the crew had swords with a gray hilt. _No way is Kurt winning this fight with **that** sword_.

Guude grabbed his sword off the table, grinning, with the same thought probably going through his mind.  He stood in front of Kurt, a couple of paces away. Confidence seemed to radiate off of him, as opposed to Kurt, who was gripping his sword in a white-knuckle grip. Guude lunged first, Kurt blocking the blow easily. He was able to block every swipe of Guude’s sword with ease. Guude never got a hit in. They moved like a well-oiled machine, with Kurt moving back a step every time Guude advanced. It wasn’t until a seagull swooped down and jostled Kurt’s sword that he was distracted enough for Guude to scratch him with the tip of his sword on his left hand.

Both men lowered their weapons and Guude made a small noise of approval. “Not bad, guy,” he said as he went back to the table, “Let’s see you with a gun.”

Placing down the sword, Kurt let out a small sigh. Zisteau was barely able to hear him mutter, “Finally something I’m good at.”

Guude handed him a flintlock pistol and the ammunition just as they heard a loud thump and Pause shouting, “FUCK!”

They looked to the second mate, who had slipped out during the fight and was now trying to pick up the bulls-eye he had dropped.

“C’mon Pause. We ain’t got all day!” Guude said.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, just hold on!” Pause yelled back.

With some help from Beef, the target was set up in the middle of the deck.

“Alright guy,” Guude said, moving over the stand beside Kurt, “Just hit the target five times.”

Kurt nodded and there was immediately something different in his eyes. The nervousness that had been there before was quickly replaced with full-on concentration and determination. He aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger. **Bang!** Hit the outer circle. **Bang!** Dead center. **Bang!** Just left of the last one. **Bang!** Dead center. **Bang!** Just outside the center.

“Impressive,” Zisteau mumbled. The other three men agreed.

Kurt lowered the gun and the determined look in his eyes scampered away as he turned around. “So, uh, how’d I do?”

Guude looked at Beef, then to Pause and then at Kurt, “Not bad, but are there any, I don’t know, special tricks you can do?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow, “Tricks?”

“Yeah,” Pause said, “Like I know my way around a bow and arrow and Beef can wield two swords at once.”

Kurt thought for a minute then said, “Well, I can do one trick, buuuuut it’s really more of a party trick…”

“Oh who cares, show us!” Beef piped up.

“Okay, um, anyone got a coin? One that you won’t mind losing?”

The other men fished around in their pockets. “I’ve got a doubloon,” Zisteau said, holding it up.

“O- Okay, um, stand, uh, there.” Kurt pointed to a spot on the deck a few paces away from him.

Zisteau nodded and moved there. _Wonder what he’s going to do._

His thoughts were interrupted by Kurt’s voice. “Throw the coin up in the air.”

A collective “Huh?” came from the other men.

A small smirk grew across Kurt’s face. “Throw the coin up into the air,” he repeated.

“Alright,” Zisteau mumbled, “Want a countdown?”

“No, just whenever.”

Zisteau rubbed the coin in his fingers for a moment before flinging the coin straight up into the air. A second later, Kurt drew the pistol out and shot into the air. The deck was silent until they heard the coin land with a *tink on the deck of the ship.

Kurt lowered the pistol and motioned to where the coin landed, “Check out the coin.”

Zisteau slowly made way to where the coin had landed. It took a while (it was a big ship), but when he did find it, he was dumbfounded.

It was still smoking, but somehow, Kurt had managed to shoot the coin in midair. A large chunk of it was missing on the side. He picked it up, wrapping his hand in an old rag he happened to have in his pocket. He walked over to the captain and deposited the coin into his hand.

Guude’s eyes widened when he saw the bullet hole. He turned to Kurt. “How the hell did you do that?”

Kurt shrugged, looking sheepish again, “I was able to do something similar with a bow and arrow and-” but before he could finish, Pause was beside him.

“You can use a bow and arrow too?” he asked eagerly.

Kurt was slightly taken aback, but he nodded all the same.

Pause looped his arm around Kurt’s shoulder, making Kurt stiffen immediately at the sudden contact, but Pause didn’t notice as he shouted, “Fuck yeah! I’m not the only one anymore!”

Zisteau chuckled. Before, Pause was the only person on board who knew how to use a bow and arrow and whenever he got drunk enough, he would start raving on about how much better it was compared to a gun. He was obviously hoping he would have some back up now. _As long as Guude allows him on the ship. Speaking of which…_

“So Captain,” Zisteau said, “What’s the verdict? Is Kurt in, or out?”

Guude thought for a moment then, rather reluctantly faced Kurt, “Welcome to the crew.”

He held out his hand and Kurt quickly took it, as if he expected it to disappear if he hesitated too much.

“Thank you, I won’t let you down,” Kurt said breathlessly.

“See that you don’t,” Guude said, sternly. He dropped his hand and turned toward his quarters, his coat furling dramatically behind him.

Kurt leaned against the mast when Guude had left. He was breathing heavily as he scrubbed a hand over his face. Zisteau was by his side in a second.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, yeah. I-I’m just glad I didn’t fail.”

“That was… pretty impressive,” he admitted. And it was. When he first joined the crew, Zisteau could barely hit his target three times in a row. Hitting the center circle four out of five times, would’ve been impossible back then.

Kurt gave a one-shouldered shrug, scratching his cheek with his other hand.

“Oh, wait,” Zisteau said, just remembering about the cut Kurt got earlier. He dug around in his pocket for the spare bandage he kept in his pocket. He pulled it out and Kurt took a step to the side.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to do that,” Kurt said, taking a step back. Zisteau rolled his eyes, already too familiar with similar protests. He grabbed on to his arm and pulled Kurt closer.

“Nonsense, it’s fine. Just let me…” He grabbed on to his hand gently and skillfully wrapped the bandage around the wound. “There,” Zisteau let Kurt’s hand fall limply down, “That’s not the bad now is it?” He looked up to Kurt and only then did he realize that they were pretty much chest-to-chest. If one of them leaned in…

Zisteau took a step back. _Don’t take that risk again._ Thankfully for him, Pause yelled for him to help fix something below deck. He was going to congratulate Kurt again, but he had slipped past and gotten in a conversation with Beef. He sighed inwardly, ignoring the part of his brain that had wanted him to lean in and jogged over to Pause.


	6. Ropes and Compasses

The rest of the day went normally. Pause needed help untangling ropes on deck and from the looks of it Beef was giving Kurt a tour of the ship and introducing him to the rest of the crew. Zisteau couldn’t help but wish he was in Beef’s place instead of listening to Pause reminisce about what had happened last time the crew when to the bar, even though Zisteau had been there.

Suddenly a hand flew in front of his face, snapping like mad. “Z? Earth to Zistykins, are you still with me?”

“Huh?” he looked up from a particularly large knot, “Um, yeah, sure.”

“Yeah right, you were paying more attention to the new guy.” _His name is Kurt and you know it._

Something must’ve given away Zisteau’s disgruntled mood because Pause shifted closer to the ship’s doctor. He punched his shoulder lightly. “Ya know I’m just kiddin with ya, right Z? And I’m just lookin’ out for you.”

Zisteau snorted. “Why would you have to look out for me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you brought a crew member from the biggest, baddest pirate ship out there and helped him join our crew! Seriously, all of a sudden, it’s like you two are best friends or some shit like that!”

“What are you getting at?” Zisteau said, looking up.

“I…”Pause sighed, “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

Z snorted again, “How could someone like Kurt hurt me?”

Pause sighed, ruffling up his hair with his fingers, “Well, how do you know he isn’t going to just turn his back on us?”

“He gave the captain his word.”

“So? Promises, oaths, vows, they can all be broken!” Pause exclaimed, gesturing with the rope still in his hands. Then he mumbled, “You of all people should know that.”

Zisteau ignored the last comment as well as the memories that came flooding through his brain.

“You didn’t see Kurt’s scars,” he whispered.

Pause’s head turned to Zisteau before turning back to the deck.

“It was clear as day; lashes, all across his back. It was Captain Bdubs that did it, I know it. Kurt meant it when he said he wouldn’t go back on that ship alive.”

He put down the rope, having enough of this talk. He made to sit up, but Pause grabbed his wrist.

“If you trust him-”

“I do.”

Pause released his wrist. “Just… take care of yourself Zistykins.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the stupid nickname. “You too, Pausey-poo.”

Pause smiled as Zisteau walked back to his room.

_I need a drink._

_\----_

It wasn’t until after dinner that he was able to get that drink. He kept himself busy for the rest of the day, all the way up to when he brought dinner back to his cabin with Kurt. When he got back, Kurt was sitting in his borrowed hammock, tracing the tattoos on his bicep. He jumped a bit when Zisteau swung the door open.

“Thanks,” he said, standing up to get his plate, “Tomorrow… I think I’ll be ready to join you guys tomorrow in the mess hall.”

Zisteau only nodded. He couldn’t help the small pang in his chest at the idea of these nights with just the two of them coming to an end.

_But it was just because Kurt wasn’t ready to meet everyone. That’s the only reason._

As Kurt took a bit from his dinner, Zisteau got another look at the tattoos, mainly the runes. They were of no language he recognized. There were no curves in the characters, only intricate patterns of straight lines. And if Zisteau turned his head just so, the characters didn’t look black, but a deep purple. He was only more intrigued.

He put his half-finished dinner on the table, “What do the words on your arm mean?”

Kurt looked up from his dinner, obviously surprised at the question. He also set down his plate and looked at his arm. “Which words are you talking about; the ones on my wrist or around the sun?”

He had almost forgotten about the ones circling Kurt’s wrist. “Both actually.”

Kurt’s lips quirked up as he continued to look at his arm. “I grew up on the street with my friend, Brian. We couldn’t find work, so we stole from the market.”

He huffed out a laugh, “But then, when we saw the other street kids and saw that they were in worse condition than us, we would give it to them. It became a thing, us stealing and giving most of it to others. And, um, Brian used to always whisper, ‘For the children!’ before we went out to steal.

“And when the two of us finally got jobs and enough to pay a guy to get tattoos, we thought it was appropriate.”

Well that was, damn, fucking noble. It wasn’t required for all pirates to have had a tough time on land, but Zisteau had never heard of a story like that before. His mind immediately compared Kurt to Robin Hood and… well, the resemblance was uncanny. A good shot, giver of the needy, was there even a bad side to Kurt?

_Of course there is, but it can’t be as worse as yours…_

Zisteau didn’t even notice he hadn’t said anything to Kurt after he had finished his story. He shook himself out of his thoughts and said, “Wow that’s… wow.”

Kurt laughed. It wasn’t a huff of a laugh, nor was it a belly laugh, but it was a laugh all the same and Zisteau felt a swell of pride for making Kurt laugh again.

“I… wow. And I thought I was articulate,” Kurt smiled, “So, um, do you want to hear about the other tattoo?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Well,” Kurt ducked his head, looking at the designs on his arm, “I never planned on getting them. They, um… weren’t a part of the original tattoo. I joined Bd- _The Emerald_ with the full sleeve without the runes. Then, like three years after I joined, Bdub- Captain BdoubleO decided that, for whatever reason, we needed Calypso’s advice. Th-”

“Wait, the **actual** **goddess** Calypso?” Zisteau interrupted.

“I- yeah. We were preeetty desperate at the time and willing to do anything. Anyway, then we, um, we set sail for the island she was supposed to be at and, sure enough, in the middle of a bog in a rickety old hut, there she was.

“So BdoubleO got whatever he needed, and we were about to leave, when she grabbed my arm and said she needed me for a moment and the captain let her. Everyone left the hut, except me, and she more or less dragged me into a seat. She said that she could feel that my life was about to change and she asked if I wanted some help. So of course I said yes, I wasn’t going to deny Calypso anything!

“Then she got out this feather-like-thing and traced it around my tattoo, saying something in a weird language. Then my skin kinda started to tingle where so was racing and…then the runes appeared!”

“So she just said something and the runes appeared?”

Kurt nodded, “Yeah, but it hurt, like a white hot iron on my skin.” Zisteau tried not to tense up. “But yeah, that’s how I got them.”

The memory of the crew’s talk popped into his head. “Did she enchant your compass?”

Kurt looked at Zisteau with a thoughtful expression, “Did she... oh yeah! She did, but it’s not like it points to gold or anything. It just… here, look.”

Kurt held out his right hand and snapped his fingers, immediately flattening out his palm. A silver compass with a red arrow appeared seconds after the snap.

Zisteau could feel his jaw drop and Kurt flushed. “Yeah it’s, that’s all it can do. It’s just so I’ll never be without it.”

“ **That’s all it can do?** ” Zisteau repeated, “You’re kidding me right? That’s freaking awesome!”

Kurt brought the compass closer to his chest and started fiddling around with it. “You think so?”

“Of course I think so! It’s a compass that comes when you snap for it!” he yelled, making some large gesture with his hands that made Kurt grin like a loon.

The rest of the night passed by much more quietly. There was no more sharing of their pasts, but Zisteau was fine with it. _I’m surprised I got all that out of him._

He was content with the next week. Being able to work by Kurt was definitely a new experience. He kept quiet, but every so often, he would pipe up with some witty line that would have the whole deck roaring. Needless to say, the crew dropped any fears they had of the ex-member of _The Emerald_ … except for the captain. Guude still was wary of the navigator, but Zisteau expected that out of him. He was still fiercely protective of his crew and Zisteau couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering to whether Guude would back their newest member up in a fight.

He didn’t have to continue wondering about that for much longer, because a week after Kurt officially joined, His Majesty’s Royal Navy was spotted closing in on _The Mindcrack_.


	7. Allons-y!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. Enjoy a long chapter

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who likes to be high up.”

Zisteau tore his gaze from the horizon and saw Kurt standing tall next to him outside the crow’s nest, gripping on to the rim of the nest. Zisteau couldn’t help but appreciate the man’s sense of balance because _wow_ , Zisteau couldn’t stay upright on the yard for more than a few seconds without needing to scramble into the crow’s nest.

He shrugged, “I usually take over lookout duty for Baj when he gets tired.”

Kurt nodded, “Ah, IIIII see. You just…” He waved his free arm around, “You seem like a guy who likes two feet on solid ground.”

Zisteau shook his head, smiling, “Nah, I’m good anywhere. I’d even like to give flying a try if, ya know, it was possible.”

Kurt looked up to the sky, which today was thankfully clear, “Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

"Ya… now, you on the other hand, _you_ seem ridiculously at home all the way up here."

Kurt tilted his head and flashed a smile, "Really?”

Zisteau chuckled, "Yeah. I would have pegged you for the awkward, flailing type, like Beef. He has the worst sense of balance I've ever seen on a guy! Like, he takes one hand off the rope and he's flying all over the place!"

Kurt started to snicker, a sound Zisteau really wanted to hear more of. "Really!?"

"Really. And it's not just balance. He can't handle any height! Once, we were docked at Tortuga and he went to check on the sails off the starboard side. He didn't even make it 3 feet up, and he freaking fell into the water!"

"Was he okay?" Kurt asked, trying to sound concerned, but his smile giving him away.

Zisteau unconsciously smiled in return, "Yeah, only his ego was bruised. For weeks, whenever someone fell, we said they 'did a Vintage Beef'."

That earned a snort out of Kurt, which only made Zisteau smile even wider. The feeling in his heart aside, Kurt's laugh was one of the best of the crew and it was a shame that his time on _The Emerald_ seemed to have shut it away.

"So," Zisteau continued, "Back to my original point, how did you get so good at balancing?"

And just like that, the bright smile on Kurt's face faltered, and then fell away.

"Well I, uh. I had to be up here a lot, being the navigator and all, but..." Kurt looked down, whether at his feet or the deck, Z couldn't tell, "but sometimes, being high up here was better than down there."

_...Nice going Z._

An uneasy silence fell between them, Kurt still looking down and Zisteau at a loss for words. But besides, what could he say in response to that? Kurt had still not told a soul what _The Emerald_ was like and if he told anyone anything from his past; it was some small, trivial part or rather vague like what he had just said. It was one of the reasons why Zisteau acted so differently with Kurt than someone like Etho or Pause, because he didn't know _how_ to act, what set him off, what topics were off limits. He hated being this in-the-dark, especially with someone like Kurt.

Just when Zisteau had thought he had come up with something to say, Kurt blurted out, "Has Vechs ever climbed up here?"

Zisteau blinked, replaying the question in his head to make sure he heard him right. "I... Don't think so?"

"Oh, I just,” he ducked his head, “he seemed the type to..."

"Climb on things?” Kurt nodded sheepishly. “That's more with people. He likes to rest on people's shoulders-well, my shoulders at least. He doesn't seem to like anyone else."

"... he seems to like me ok."

_Yeah... you seem like the exception to a lot of things here._

He was just about to say something when a black shape caught his eye. He swiftly turned around toward the side Kurt was on. It was still pretty far off, just short of a league, but it was obvious the ship was coming toward them.

He reached down for the telescope that was per innately kept in the crow’s nest and extended it. Looking through it, he pointed it straight at the other ship's mast and grimaced at what he saw. The flag was the color of Caribbean waters with a brown, 3-D cube in the middle.

He glanced at Kurt, who, without a telescope, was looking puzzled. Wordlessly, he handed him the device before bending over the edge of the crowd nest and shouting:

"HIS MAJESTY'S NAVY'S SHIP! PORT SIDE!"

Crew members immediately crowded to that side, with Captain Guude at the front with his own telescope. He only looked through it for a few moments before shutting it and turning to the crew.

"Git ready people!" he yelled, "That’s Commodore SethBling's ship out there! There’s no doubt he will want a fight and it’s going to be a messy one!"

When no one moved, the captain straightened himself and then yelled, with all his might. "GIT TO YOUR POSITIONS YA SEA DAWGS!"

Zisteau couldn't help the chuckle as he saw everyone scatter. Beef, Mhykol, and Pause he saw running toward the "armory" (aka, whatever room they had chucked the weapons into when not in use). The cabin boy, MC, he saw scurry over to the captain, arms full of what were no doubt the two steel, polished swords with shimmery blue handles that the captain took such pride in. He caught a glimpse of Pakratt and Etho before they disappeared below deck and he couldn't help his widening grin. Those two were cannon enthusiasts on the best of days, pyromaniacs at the worst. Commodore Seth might have the most technologically advanced ship on the seven seas, but Etho and Pakratt together knew how to blow it out of the water.

More men that Zisteau couldn’t make out were rushing about. He himself was about to make his way to his station when he heard someone clear their throat.

Turning around to face Kurt, it only took him a moment to see his error of immediately wanting to jump into the action.

“Oh yeah, you, _you_ don’t have a station.” Kurt nodded his head. “C’mon, come with me.”

He pushed himself out of the crow’s nest and on to the yard arm. Getting as close as he could to the crow’s nest, he felt around with his foot until he found the small metal lever hidden to those who didn’t know about it. He reached up and grabbed the line of rope attached to a pulley with a large metal hook at the end. Giving it a good tug to make sure it wasn’t going to snap on him, he held on firmly.

He looked at Kurt, who was looking thoroughly confused at what Zisteau was doing. Head titled to the right, brows furrowed, eyes flicking over Zisteau’s body, he looked adorable trying to make sense of Zisteau’s strange position.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he couldn’t help the smile on his face as he said, “Race ya!”, and flicked the lever with the toe of his boot. There was a _click_ of the release and Zisteau shot down towards the deck, hands firmly on the hook. He looked up and saw Kurt’s shocked face. He laughed loudly, making a semi-smooth landing on top of some loose ropes and deserted weapons.

“How did you do that?!” Kurt shouted down.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have one of those?” Zisteau teased. He could see the small laugh that came out of Kurt as he began his descent down the mast via the rigging.

It didn’t take too long for Kurt to climb down. When he did, he immediately started walking toward where everyone else was. Zisteau grabbed on to his white shirt by the sleeve and pulled him the other way.

“Where are ya goin’ that you’re in so much of a hurry to get to?” he teased again, leading Kurt to the opposite side.

“Oh I, uh, I just assumed that you would have a position by all the action,” Kurt said sheepishly.

“Most of the time I do,” he said, when they had reached the other side, “but today I’m feeling like doing something different.”

“… different?”

“Yeah,” Zisteau said, stopping by the railing, “I was with the rest of the crew the last two pillagings. I want to try something new this time.”

“Captain Guude’s not gonna like this, huh?” Kurt asked.

Zisteau shrugged his shoulders as he reached for two of the ropes that were secured to the rail. He handed one over to Kurt, who took it, albeit with caution.

“What are we doing?” he asked, looking up, up, up to where the rope was attached to the main mast.

“Something Guude wouldn’t want us doing,” Zisteau said, cracking a smile.

“Aaaaaaand why are you dragging me into this?”

 Shrugging his shoulders, he tugged on the line once. “Why not?”

There was a bit of silence where the two could hear bits and pieces of the bickering that was happening between the two opposing captains a few yards in front of them.

Zisteau spoke up finally, “You don’t **have** to do it if you don’t want to. I just…”

“No, no, no!” Kurt cut in quickly, “I just- What are we going to do exactly?”

That made Zisteau smile. He pointed to the crew in front of them. “Any moment now, we are going to stop those two from wasting time and start this fight!”

“… yeah, but how?”

Zisteau gave another tug on the rope, “With this of course!”

Kurt looked from the rope, to Zisteau, then back at the rope. “You mean… we’re going to swing in?”

Zisteau gave a laugh, “Yep!”

“We are going to swing over the heads of our crew, then let go and fly over the gap between the ships, then over the other crew and start the fight?”

“Well now you’re just making me seem mad,” Zisteau said, trying to keep a straight face, but failing miserably.

Kurt looked up at his rope and gave three tugs, muttering something that Zisteau couldn’t hear.

“If it makes me seem less mad,” Zisteau said, “Guude and company won’t be far behind.”

Kurt let out a huff of air before backing up even more, so he was flush to the railing.

“I must be crazy to be doing this,” he muttered just loud enough for Zisteau to hear him.

He laughed and did the same, “There’s a reason it’s called _The Mindcrack_. So on the count of three, run as fast as you can, then jump at the last possible second, got it?”

Kurt gave a short nod, grabbing on to the rope higher up.

“One…”

Zisteau grabbed on to the rough rope, the fibers cutting into his palm.

“Two…”

He positioned his feet, one behind the other.

“NOW!”

Zisteau broke into a full sprint across the deck, ignoring the stares he was no doubt getting (and the middle finger Guude was no doubt pulling) and jumped just before he was going to run into everyone. He briefly heard the sound of grappling hooks being tossed and pulling the two ships closer so the fight could begin.

The rope pulled taut in his hands and he let go, letting out a cry, “Ah rhi di di di di, rhi di di da!”

He heard Kurt yell out… something as well. His mind wasn’t on that, it was on not landing on someone’s sword as he tucked himself in to (hopefully) minimize damage to his body when he landed.

Thankfully it worked as he sloppily rolled onto the deck of the Navy’s ship and was able to pull himself up before he was surrounded by two sailors. They had their swords out already, but Zisteau was quicker, dodging two of their swings before pulling his pistol out and shooting both of them in quick succession, blood splattering on to people who were fighting near him.

Dimly he realized that the fight had moved completely onto Seth’s ship. The floorboards rumbled beneath him, the effect of Pakratt's explosive work, no doubt.   
  
He looked around briefly to make sure that, yes, Kurt was handling himself just fine.  
  
No sooner did he glance over did one of Seth's sailors pop up by him. He thanked his quick reflexes as he drew his sword up and out to block the sailor's downswing. It didn’t take long, however, for the sailor to get a few hits on him. They exchanged a few blows before Zisteau was pushing the lifeless body out of his way and almost immediately getting thrown into a fight with someone else on the stairs.

From then on it was a constant dance of fighting, both the other people on the ship and his emotions.

_Don’t think about the look in their eyes with that final blow. Don’t linger watching their skin grow pale and cold. Don’t think about the lives they had, how they could’ve had kids, a wife, a_ family. _Don’t listen to the moans and screams of agony around you. These people would hurt you and your friends if you didn’t fight. FIGHT._

All of his focus was placed on the person in front of him; on blocking, dodging, and returning blows. Only once was his concentration broken, when a bullet that he thought was for him whizzed inches behind his head. He turned around just in time to see the body of one of Seth’s sailors drop down dead.

He scanned around quickly. No one fighting around him had their guns out. He looked father into the crowd of people fighting and cause a glimpse of Kurt holstering his pistol whilst fighting off someone with his sword near the stern of the ship.

_Could he have-_ His thought was interrupted by a sailor lunging at him from the stairs and just like that, he was back in the zone.  
  
The overall fight seemed to go on for ages. Neither side seemed like they were going to run out of men (maybe explosives. Those had been making the deck rumble since that start). Zisteau’s concentration was slipping and he was starting to feel all the cuts, scratches, and bruises he had managed to get while fighting. All he wanted was for Seth to surrender his ship so he could just flop on his hammock and **sleep**.

He looked around to see if he could find Guude and, sure enough, he was fighting Seth at the bow, just a couple of feet from where Z was fighting. He knew better than to join in on that fight (Guude had his moments where he liked to be dramatic), so he somehow managed to keep half his focus on watching Guude’s fight and half of it on keeping up with his own fight.

Guude and Seth were pretty evenly matched, with Guude having a slight advantage. Where Seth had all his training from the Navy, the _Mindcrack_ captain had picked up fighting techniques from wherever they sailed. And as Zisteau watched more, the more he realized the fight between the two captains resembled more of a dance than anything. They mirrored each other’s foot work, their swords clashing together, singing along with the beat of their feet, Seth’s blood red cap and Guude’s green coat swishing around the two of them.

_If only they would get to the end of the dance._

Almost immediately after that thought, Zisteau caught a glimpse of someone dressed in the Navy uniform sneak up on the two captains, who by now had stopped circling each other with Seth’s back to the sea and Guude’s to the ship.

_That can’t be good._

Zisteau made quick work of his opponent, a quick slash at the wrist and elbow incapacitating him. He then turned to the man, who was too far away from Z to run up and may-lay him. He pulled out his pistol and aimed in one smooth motion.

“This is what you get for attempting to take the life of my captain,” Z muttered to himself as he pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

Zisteau looked at his gun for a moment, dumbstruck, then checked the ammo.

Nothing.

He patted the pockets of his trousers, seeing if had stored any.

Nothing

“Fuck!” he said quietly, dropping the now useless gun.

He stood frozen for a moment. The guy was almost within reach of Guude, a couple more steps and he’d be in prime position to slice Guude’s throat. Z was too far to run up and stab him. Everyone else on the ship was fighting on the lower deck.

In a last ditch effort to save his captain, Zisteau shouted, “GUUUUUUUUUDE!!! BEHIND YOU!” in hopes that Guude could do _something_ with one guy at his front and another behind him.

Guude quickly turned around and was able to block the sailor’s knife… but Zisteau could see how Guude’s back tensed up not moments later, no doubt because Seth had pressed a gun or sword against it.

All Zisteau could do was stand, still frozen in place.

_This is all my fault._

Suddenly, from behind Zisteau, there were three loud **BANG** s and the sailor crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Zisteau turned around and saw Kurt, his white shirt and blue vest blood stained with multiple tears, tensed up and holding a still smoking gun in his hands.

They stood staring at each other, in both disbelief and relief, until they heard Commodore Seth yell out, in a clear voice, “I surrender.”

All the tension visibly drained out of Kurt’s body and he lowered the gun as the crew of the _Mindcrack_ cheered. He wavered and Zisteau finally was able to move his legs as Kurt’s knees buckled. He quickly secured his arm around Kurt’s waist, stopping him from dropping.

“You okay?” Kurt asked, slightly breathless.

Zisteau huffed out a laugh, “Shouldn’t I be asking the swooning maiden that?”

Kurt pouted, muttering something along the lines of _‘m no maiden_.

“But seriously, you okay?” Zisteau asked, “Can you walk?”

Kurt nodded, “Yep, j-just… out of practice. Forgot how these things feel like.”

“And how exhausted you feel after?”

“Pretty much.”

“Good thing we at the _Mindcrack_ have the perfect solution to that,” Zisteau said, turning the two of them down the stairs.

“And what would that be?”

“Liquor. Lots, and lots of liquor.”

Kurt laughed at that, “Sounds perfect.”

\---

Later that evening, after Commodore Seth’s ship had been left out at sea, riddled full of holes thanks to Etho and Pak’s explosives and all of the wounds had been tended to care of Zisteau and Jsano, Zisteau found Kurt in his, or rather their room, petting Vechs, who was in Kurt’s lap. Kurt hadn’t noticed he had entered, so he took the opportunity to just look.

Kurt had taken off his dirty vest and shirt and hadn’t bothered to put anything back on, leaving Zisteau with one of the best views of Kurt’s naked torso since that first day. The scars on his back were just barely visible and most that would have been easily seen where covered with white bandages.

When Zisteau started to feel a bit guilty about his staring, he cleared his throat. Kurt’s head shot up, “Oh, hey Zisteau, what’s up?”

Zisteau held up the bottle of scotch and gave a small smile, “I wasn’t kidding about the liquor.”

“Oh, right. Put it… there I guess?” Kurt replied, gesturing to the table.

“Well,” Zisteau glanced at the door, “It’s tradition that we all get drunk on deck… the whole crew.”

“Oh… well, sure I guess…”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I can stay down here… with you.”

“No, no, no I- I’d hate to get in the way of tradition,” Kurt said, with what looked like a forced smile.

  
“Seriously, you don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable.” That was the last thing he wished on Kurt.

“No no, I’m serious,” he said, pushing Vechs off and getting up. Vechs let out a small hiss as Kurt reached for the dirty, bloody shirt he wore during the fight.

“Wait,” Zisteau said, going around the table to the cabinets. He blindly reached for a clean shirt and threw a red button down at Kurt, who grabbed it. “You don’t have to wear that.”

“I really don’t mind-”

“No, the thing is… after raiding ships and whatever, we drink to forget.”

Kurt was silent for a moment. “Oh,” he said, finally getting it.

“Yeah. So wearing something with blood on it-”

“-would not be the best idea. Got it.”

Kurt put down the bloodied shirt and started putting on the red shirt.

“Sooooo,” Zisteau started, hopping to diffuse the tension in the room, “When we swung on the ship, I could have sworn you yelled something, but I have no idea what you yelled.”

“Oh, that.” Kurt blushed and ducked his head for a moment. “I said, um, allons-y.”

“Allons-y? What the damn hell does that mean?”

Kurt giggled a bit, “It’s, um, it’s French for ‘let’s go’. It, um, seemed appropriate.”

“Yeah… but I thought you said you grew up in London?”

“… yeah I did.”

“So how on Earth did you learn French?”

Kurt shrugged, now fully dressed, “ _The Emerald_ went places.”

Zisteau could only nod and reply with “Huh.”

“So… you ready?” Kurt asked.

“If you are.”

“I am indeed.”

“Indeed!”

The two climbed up the stairs together, where the rest of the crew was already deep into their cups, taking up every inch of the deck and in various states of dress.

For the rest of the night, the crew of the _Mindcrack_ stayed on deck, drinking to forget the lives they took that day, drinking in remembrance of the souls of their own who were lost. And if the captain, who had been cold to Kurt before was now smiling more easily at him and if Zisteau glanced one too many times at the ship’s navigator, well, no one would remember it.

Because this was a night made to forget.


	8. Cats, Pranks, and Laughs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: Forgot to put in the italics and bold before. All fixed now

**Bong!**

**Bong!**

**Bong!**

Zisteau smiled to himself as he heard the time go off. 3 o’clock at night, nobody would be awake.

_Perfect._

He looked up from the large brown rucksack he had been packing at the center table over to his sleeping crew mate/roommate. At around 8 at night, Kurt had entered their cabin after finishing mopping the deck, shoulders slumped and feet dragging across the floor. At first, Zisteau thought that Kurt had had a bad day, but his thoughts must’ve been obvious because as Kurt sat down on his hammock, he waved his hand in dismissal and said he was just tired. The surgeon had nodded and grabbed the scotch bottle in the upper cabinet (they had gone through three others in the past two months). By the time Zisteau had turned around with a glass of scotch, Kurt had removed his boots, jacket, and vest, leaving only the thin white button up and trousers. Kurt thanked Zisteau for the scotch, downed it in one go, and promptly fell back into his hammock. Zisteau wasn’t at all surprised when, moments later, he glanced back at the hammock to see Kurt fast asleep, body turned to face the wall.

Zisteau thought for a moment about his plan for the night and the man currently fast asleep. It didn’t take him long to make his decision and to loudly whisper, “Hey, Kurt! Wake up!”

No response from the sleeping navigator.

He strode over to where Kurt lay in his hammock. He moved to shake Kurt awake, but stopped, his hand hovering over the sleeping man’s shoulder. For a moment the ship’s surgeon just stood there and stared. Kurt looked so relaxed while he was sleeping, he couldn’t help but look for a moment. His hair was swept off to the right side, lips parted slightly. It would be so easy to wake him up by-

_No! Stop- Stop thinking like that! Those thoughts will only get you into trouble! What we have right now is perfect, you don’t want to ruin that by making bold irrational moves like that._

Zisteau mentally shook himself as memories filtered past, each one bringing a sinking feeling to his gut.

_Keep those thoughts to yourself and you won’t get hurt again._

The noise of Kurt turning over in his sleep brought him back to the present. He dropped his hand onto Kurt’s shoulder, nudging him awake.

“Kurt… Kuuuuuuuurt. Wake up!” he half whispered.

Kurt blearily blinked his eyes and turned to his cabin mate, “Zist- W-what time is it?”

“Time to get up and help me.”

Kurt crossed his arms over his eyes, as if that would get rid of his hovering roommate, “Didn’t answer my question.”

Zisteau sighed, relenting, “A little past 3 o’clock.”

“In the morning?!” Kurt uncovered his eyes to stare incredulously at Zisteau, “No way.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“How can you have fun at 3 in the morning?!”

Kurt rolled over, again facing the wall. Zisteau bit his lip, resisting the urge to just pick him up and haul him out of bed.

“Just get up.” A beat. “Trust me.”

Zisteau went back to his abandoned pack and continued to fill it with all the supplies he’d need. It was almost to the point of bursting when he heard a soft sigh from Kurt’s corner of the cabin. He resisted turning around as he heard the rustling of his roommate getting up and the quiet sound of his feet hitting the floor. He couldn’t help the smile when he felt Kurt’s presence beside him.

“Sooooooooo… what’s all this?” Kurt gestured to Zisteau’s bag.

Zisteau turned to Kurt and grinned, “This is how we have fun.” He hoisted up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Now follow me, and keep quiet.”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” Kurt asked as Zisteau slipped out the door. When he realized he wasn’t going to get a reply, he sighed and followed the ship’s surgeon to… where ever.

The walk was short; up a level, walk down past several rooms (with both of them being mindful of the occasional creaky board), till Zisteau stopped in front of three that were especially close together. He dropped the bulging knapsack gently on the floor between the last two doors. Kurt looked over his friend’s shoulder, curious as his crew mate reached into his pack. He backed up and Zisteau pulled out a wire brush and two covered wooden pails of paint; one with a thick line of deep red and the other with a line of white painted on.

Zisteau handed the items to Kurt, saying “Here,” and dropped the items in his hands before rummaging around in the pack again.

Kurt looked down at his arms full of supplies, then at Zisteau, who was still crouched beside the bag, his simple brown shirt stretching over his muscles.

The navigator looked away, quickly filling the silence. “Is this a prank?”

Zisteau looked up at Kurt and nodded his head, smiling. “Yep, but not at you though. At Team Canada.”

Kurt had been with the _Mindcrack_ for long enough to learn about their odd fascination with teams. It seemed like everyone on board was on at least one team, and as Kurt saw it, there was really no point to them other than being funny. Team Canada was made up of Pause, Beef and Etho; the latter two had ran from the British Royal Navy when the new king came to power, meeting Pause as they ran further into the Canadian wilderness. All three of them were vastly different; their only similarity was being from Canada, thus the name.

The shifting the paint pails and brush in his arms snapped him out of his thoughts as he struggled to hold everything. “And why are we pranking them?”

Zisteau shrugged, “It’s been a while. The prank wars have kind of died.”

“Prank wars?”

“Yeah. It was just something small that was supposed to keep us busy as we sailed long distances, but it grew out of hand.”

“Let me guess… you had something to do with that?”

Zisteau grinned, looking up to the ceiling as he remembered his past pranks, “Weeeeeeeell, I did fill up Guude’s room with sand that one time.”

“You… what? How?!”

“That’s a story for another day, when we’re not in the middle of pranking.”

“Right… what are we doing?”

Zisteau used a paint brush to point to the three rooms, “Painting these three guys’ rooms with the Canadian flag. Paint as much as you want, I have extra paint I you need it. The room to the left is Beef’s; you get that one. I got the room on the right, and we both paint Etho’s in… say, an hour?”

Kurt nodded, "Sure. And you just want flags everywhere?”

“As many as you can fit.”

He nodded again, “Got it.” He turned toward Beef’s room and tried to reach for the door handle. Realization dawned on his face as he saw that he could not reach the handle with his cluttered arms. He turned sheepishly to his crew member.

"Could you..." He tilted his head toward the door.

Zisteau shook his head. "Lazy good for nothing," he said mockingly.

He opened the door with a bow and a flourish. Kurt laughed softly, entering the room.

The other man grinned, grabbing his supplies.

_This is gonna be fun._

 

An hour later, Zisteau wiped his hand over his forehead, accidentally smearing white paint over it. He stepped back to appreciate his work. He had managed to paint large Canadian flags on Pause’s ceiling, floor, and walls. He had also gotten flags on the dresser, table, and the seat of Pause’s chair.

_Good job me._

He picked up his paint cans, noticing he still had quite a bit left, and went to check on how Kurt was holding out.

Silently he exited the room, tiptoed over to Beef’s room, and quickly entered, leaving only a small crack of lantern light in. When he turned around toward the room, he couldn’t help his mouth dropping open at what he saw. Kurt hadn’t only painted the ceiling, walls, and floor of the room; he was starting to paint every piece of furniture as well with a Canadian flag, or in just red and white if he couldn’t fit one. The man in question was currently hunched over a wooden table, painting the maple leaf on a wooden cup. He looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Hey,” Kurt said quietly. He glanced quickly around the room then held his arms out, “How’d I do so far?”

Zisteau wiped away a fake tear, “It’s… beautiful.” He added a fake sniffle at the end.

Kurt dropped his arms, laughing quietly.

“In fact,” Zisteau continued, “Now I have to go back to Pause’s room to paint more flags. I didn’t even think of going this far!”

He smiled, “Well I do have a thing for big projects.”

“Good, so do I,” then added, without thinking, “We’d make a great pair.”

Zisteau bit his tongue as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. _Great, wonder how he’ll interpret that._

He silently gave a sigh of relief when Kurt merely smiled and said, “Indeed.”

He quickly excused himself so he could finish up Pause’s room by painting several more Canadian flags on many of his arrows, his cups, and in several other places where he missed. Once he and Kurt were ready to tackle Etho’s room, it was already five o’clock. They only had less than an hour to paint Etho’s room before he, ever the early bird, would wake up. The two pranksters worked diligently, splitting the room in half so they wouldn’t get in each other’s way. When they had finished with their own sides, they worked together on the floor and ceiling.

They were done by half-past five, both exhausted and both covered in paint due to an unexpected mini paint war that broke out when Zisteau “accidentally” flicked red paint on Kurt’s white shirt. The two quickly retreated back to their cabin, careful not to wake any of the other crew members. When they reached their room, Zisteau resisted the urge to just fall asleep in his paint stained clothes, so he quickly changed out of the shirt he had been wearing and laid down in his hammock, shirtless. He turned his head to Kurt, intending to thank him for helping him, but it was obvious by the quiet snore that came from his side of the room that he had already fallen asleep, paint stained clothes and all.

Zisteau smirked and turned the other way, intending on getting as much sleep as he possibly could before-

 

**Knock! Knock! Knock!**

“Wake up ya lazies, breakfast’s ready!” Baj called from the other side of the door.

Zisteau blearily opened his eyes. He slowly got up, not fully awake after spending 3 hours last night pranking. He stretched his arms over his head, bones cracking as Kurt was finally opening his eyes.

“Come on,” Zisteau said, standing up, “I don’t want to miss Team Canada’s reactions.”

Kurt groaned from where he was still laying down. “Too tired. Go without me,” he mumbled.

Zisteau rolled his eyes. Lazy.

He looked around the room, eyes focusing in on the pitcher full of water on the counter top. Walking quietly to it, he picked it up and went back to Kurt’s hammock, so he was right above him. He upturned the entire pitcher right on Kurt’s head and backed up quickly as Kurt bolted up right, sputtering.

“Was that really necessary?!” Kurt exclaimed, wiping water out of his eyes.

Zisteau set the pitcher down on the middle counter, “Yep. Now change out of those clothes, they’re soaked. Meet you topside.”

He didn’t need to look behind him as he exited the room to know that Kurt was glaring daggers in his direction. It was only after he was out of the room did he realize that he still had no shirt on.

“Hey, Kurt! Could you toss me a shirt while you’re in there?” he called through the door.

Almost immediately, the door opened, showing a slightly grumpy and very shirtless Kurt. Zisteau only had a moment to catch a quick glimpse of his muscles and tats before a shirt was chucked at his face and the door was shut.

“Thank you!” he shouted, slipping on the shirt and upturning his collar.

 

When the door opened again, it revealed Kurt no longer shirtless and in a gray tunic. He looked much less murderous than he had when Zisteau had woken him. They made their way down the hall to the galley, already the smell of salted beef making its way to the two crew mates.

The galley was fairly simple; two long wooden tables each being able to seat 12 people each, with a large piece of cloth replacing the door and blocking the entrance to the actual kitchen, where Mhykol spent most of his time preparing food. Already seated and talking were the Captain, Baj, Pakratt, Jsano, and a couple other members. Kurt and Zisteau took their seats near the kitchen, away from the main entrance. It was quiet while they waited for breakfast, the only noise coming from the low chatter amongst crew members and the sound of the curtain being pulled aside as more people began to file in.

It was quiet… until Beef stormed in, looking as if he had just rolled out of bed. His hair and beard was in disarray and he was missing quite a few buttons on his blue button down, but judging by the look in his eyes, one of absolute disbelief, he couldn’t care less about his appearance.

“Okay, who did it?” Beef demanded.

“Did what?” Guude asked from the head of the table.

“This!” Beef exclaimed, holding up a red and white painted wooden cup, “Everything in my room is painted with the Canadian flag! And Pause’s and Etho’s too!”

There were a few whispers from other crew members. Not everyone participated in the prank wars and those who didn’t usually would place bets on who would do what prank and who would prank who next. A few eyes flicked to Zisteau, knowing he had a history for large pranks and some money was exchanged.

Guude ignored the bets taking place and asked, “Did they leave a note?”

“Yeah, but all the said was that they’re ‘Team Single Malt Scotch’, which really doesn’t help at all.”

“Weeeeeell, maybe it’s the two people on the ship that only drink malt scotch,” Pakratt deadpanned.

All heads turned toward Kurt and Zisteau. Some more money was exchanged, not expecting Kurt of all people to be involved in the prank wars. The former blushed, ducking his head to look at his plate as Zisteau laughed loudly.

“Happy prank wars, everybody!” he exclaimed, slinging an arm around Kurt’s shoulders.

-*-*-*-*-

Even after being on the ship for three months, Kurt still got stuck with some of the more undesirable jobs, such as mopping the poop deck. But he didn’t really mind, it wasn’t like he was opposed to hard work (he was a pirate for Notch’s sake), but after a while, the small of salt water and soap really got to you, even if he had Pause alongside to distract him with his ridiculous conversations.

“I don’t understand how Vechs likes you. He hates anyone whose come on to the _Mindcrack_! Well… except for Zisteau of course, but he’s just warmed right up to you! I don’t get it.”

Kurt scoffed, looking up from the spot he had been mopping for the past minute as Pause had rattled on and on. “He doesn’t like me.”

Pause gave him a look, “Really? The first time I walked into Z’s cabin when Vechs first arrived, the lil’ shit clawed my ankles to kingdom come! I couldn’t walk without a limp for days!”

Kurt had to hide his giggles as Pause continued his rant.

“Really, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s bad luck to throw a cat off a ship, I’d have chucked Vechs off at the next port!”

“And the fact that he and Zisteau are pretty much attached to each other,” Kurt added.

“Yeah, that too.”

After a few moments of working silently Kurt asked, “So do you not like cats ooooor…?”

“No, no, I love cats, but not hyper-active ones that have their heart set out on scaring the shit out of me.”

“So what cat would you rather’ve wandered on to the _Mindcrack_?”

The native stopped mopping. He crossed his arms over the top of the mop before saying, “A cat that would just catch mice and the rest of the time just sit and not give a shit.”

Kurt nodded absentmindedly, moving his mop to a different spot.

They worked in silence until there was the soft noise of nails being caught on wood and scratching.

Pause turned his head to the right, “Oh hey, speak of the little hellion.”

The navigator looked over to where Pause was looking and saw the thin tabby sauntering over. It’s red and orange coat shone in the afternoon sun as it walked to where the two crew mates were. Expertly avoiding the wet patches in the wood, Vechs ended up at Kurt’s feet. It immediately started to purr and rub its face and body against Kurt’s bare feet.

“See!?” Pause exclaimed pointing to the cat. Vechs stopped rubbing to give Pause a glare only a cat could. The cat then got on his hind legs and started to paw at Kurt’s knee.

The navigator rolled his eyes, “He just wants attention.”

Pause snorted, “Vechs isn't the ‘pay-attention-to-me’ type. He's more of the ‘back-the-fuck-up-before-I-shred-your-pants’ type.”

Kurt waved a hand, smirking slightly. “Whatever. My pants are rolled up today, he can’t get them.” He knelt down to pet Vechs. He hoped that as he did so, the cat would be appeased and would leave them alone so they could finish their work.

However, when he got close enough to the floor to comfortably scratch the tabby’s ears, he wasn’t planning on Vechs to immediately drop into a crouch, jump gracefully on Kurt’s shoulders, and sit there like a king on a throne with no intent on moving.

Kurt stayed there, frozen, without a clue as what to do as Pause laughed his ass off to his side.

Thankfully, he spotted Zisteau walking out of his room and he was able to grab his attention.

“So,” Zisteau said when he reached them, barely being able to contain his smile, “How’d you get into this predicament?”

Kurt was a bit hesitant in saying, “Would you believe me if I said that he tricked me into getting down here?”

Zisteau chuckled, “Knowing Vechs, anything is possible.”

He then explained how Vechs would jump on his shoulders constantly if he wasn’t doing any hard manual labor and that this was the first time he had seen Vechs on someone else’s shoulders (which made Pause shout “See!?” again.)

“You just have to be careful, but you can still move around. Here,” Zisteau offered a hand that Kurt graciously took. He pulled Kurt up as Vechs was rearranging himself.

“Don’t worry, he’ll usually stay like that for an hour at most,” Zisteau said, leaving the two with a wink (that most certainly did not make Kurt blush).

By the time the sun was low in the sky, Vechs had remained on Kurt’s shoulders, now lying across like a scarf. When Kurt got back to the cabin (after a very slow decent of the stairs as to not disturb Vechs), he glared at Zisteau half-heartedly. He wasn’t really mad at the surgeon; it was actually nice to have the comforting weight on his shoulders.

“Well,” Zisteau said, stifling his giggles, “he never does that.”

“Wonder why I’m the exception then,” Kurt joked, walking over to where the scotch was kept.

_That’s what I’m wondering too._

“He’ll get off of you when he sees a mouse.”

And almost as if called by name, the two crew members barely heard the small “squeak” before Vechs jumped off and sprinted like a red bullet toward the noise.

“Ey, you were right!” Kurt grinned.

-*-*-*-*-

It was a quiet night in Zisteau’s cabin. He was writing down things to do in the next few weeks while Kurt was sitting on his hammock on the other side of the room, fiddling with something he had found while on deck. They worked in comfortable silence, with the exception of the scratch of Z’s quill and the occasional metallic **click** from Kurt’s side of the room when he finally got something to fit together.

After a bit, Zisteau heard the other man put down the device on the counter top and sigh.

Not looking up he asked, “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No, I- I just remembered I left my pack up on deck and I need to get something from it.”

Without missing a beat, Zisteau said, “Get it yourself, lazyass.”

Kurt snorted.

Zisteau looked at Kurt, glanced at the slightly ajar door, and then at the clock secured on the wall.

He shrugged, closing his notebook, “Tell ya what, I’ll grab it when I go get dinner whiiiiiich would be right about now.”

“Really?” Kurt grinned, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Zisteau grinned in return, “No problem.” He got up and pushed open the door-

-to a large bucket of freezing ocean water falling on his head. He stood there soaking wet in shock for a moment, Kurt’s loud laughter sounding distant as he put all the pieces together.

_That son of a-_

Without a moment’s hesitation, he looked for the bucket, which had rolled over to his feet and picked it up. He sent a quick thanks to… whoever, that there was still some water left in the bucket and turned back to the cabin.

It was so worth the cold dinner they ended up with because of the tickle fight that ensued after he dumped the rest of the water on Kurt (as were the looks they got from their crew mates in the morning. But come on, their laughter hadn’t been that loud).


	9. Knozims Chain

The early summer sun streamed through the port holes of the captain's quarters. A beam of light hit Guude straight in his eye, waking him from his dream filled with mountains of gold, treasure, and... Pause as a mermaid?

Maybe it was for the best that he woke up.

He sat up and pulled off the colorful blanket he had bartered for off some small island. He stretched his arms above his head, groaning softly as he felt his spine pop. Swinging his legs over the side, he slipped his feet into a pair of slippers that he had gotten off a merchant ship a few years back. Now that he thought about it, as he walked over to his small closet, there were few things in his quarters that shared a similar place of origin. His furniture was crafted out of different wood types from different islands. His clothing was made of different fabrics, ranging from silk from Asia to cotton from the West Indies. He had a whole cabinet of different trinkets that he had picked up (or stolen) on his travels.

As he slipped out of his night clothes into his usual captain garb, his mind wandered to a specific set of isles: the Asylum Chain.

A series of small islands formerly known as Knozims Chain, but renamed to Asylum Chain when people got tired of having to pronounce Knozims Chain, it had been previously owned by His Majesty and used as a break point for soldiers to relax and for ships to stock up. However, once pirates began hearing about how nice the islands were and what a perfect spot it would be for them, things started getting tricky. First, several pirates tried bartering for the islands, using gold, silver, spices, and whatever else they had. They were met with upturned noses. Then they resorted to violence. A huge fight broke out between the navy stationed out at the islands and whatever pirates wanted to come. Guude had been a part of that, before he was a captain. He had a nice, long scar running up his arm to remember it by. Now it was not only a place to get drunk, it was a place to trade and barter, to take a breather and relax after a tough week on the high seas.

A pirate's haven.

But it wasn't Guude's favorite spot purely for those reasons; he liked the Asylum Chain mainly for the owner of The Dancing Lute, Aureylian.

Aureylian was one of Guude's more unexpected friends. They had met during the fight for Asylum Chain and continued to talk after the fighting was over. Aurey had talked his ear off about her ideas for an inn, right where they were sitting, but Guude hadn't minded her chatting in the least (then again, he was fighting off the pain of the long cut in his arm, but he really was interested in her ideas). They had parted ways when he was fully patched up. He had decided to head towards the mainland in search of an old friend and Aurey had decided to stay, mind set on building that tavern. A year or two later, when Guude had come back to the Asylum Chain with most of the current Mindcrack crew, he found Aurey as the owner and barkeep of The Dancing Lute. They had reunited with warm hugs and cold pints of beer as she had recounted her story to him.

After the fight, she had been lucky to come upon many men that were happy to help her build her bar (apparently it was very easy to get pirates to do anything with the promise of rum afterwards). Then she had gotten even luckier when a Navy supply ship holding several barrels of rum hadn’t gotten the message that the islands were being held by pirates, providing her with easy access to her first load of supplies. One of the men who she had grown closest with on the island; Captain Jordan Spark had graciously offered to help out with any unruly customers in the bar. Now her tavern was one of the most popular spots on the islands and one of Guude’s first stops at the Asylum Chain.

And now, after thinking about the islands for so long and remembering all the other times he and his crew had visited, Guude really wanted to go back.

Fixing his coat in the mirror, he yelled for his cabin boy, MC. The young man, who always seemed awake to cater to his needs, arrived at his side shortly. He was dressed in his usual dull orange tunic and brown pants with a green bandana covering his brown hair. Guude felt momentarily bad for waking up the man when he saw the dark circles under his eyes, but he brushed the feeling off. The task wouldn’t take long.

“Could you take inventory on the sugar and other spices we got in that raid we did last week?” Guude asked, looking at MC through the mirror.

“Of course, Captain,” MC said shortly, making move to leave.

Guude turned and held a hand out, “Actually, take inventory of any sugar and spices we have on board. And get First mate Beef for me.”

“You got it Captain,” MC said, smiling slightly before exiting the room.

It wasn’t long until Beef was knocking at his cabin door. He had always prided himself on having the best crew. Guude smiled to himself before calling for him to enter.

Beef stepped in, looking like he had just tumbled out of bed. His beard and hair had yet not been combed and his shirt was askew. It reminded Guude of how he had looked weeks ago when he had stormed into the galley, fuming about his and the rest of Team Canada’s rooms being painted with the Canadian flag.

He had to stop himself from giggling at that thought.

Beef sat down in one of the wooden chairs and placed his hands behind his head. “What’s it that you need?”

Guude turned to Beef and sat down in another chair, “I feel like visiting the Asylum Chain. When was the last time we sailed there?”

Beef thought for a moment before responding. “I’m pretty sure we were planning on going like 4 months ago, but then Kurt joined and we just never got around to it.”

The captain hummed in response. “Well, more the reason to go. I had MC got check inventory. Might as well make some money while we’re down there.”

Beef nodded as he continued. “Go find Kurt for me and have him set a course to Asylum Chain.”

“I haven’t seen Kurt all morning.”

“You haven’t? Hmmm, then find Zisteau. He has a built in Kurt-detector.”

Beef laughed, getting up out of his seat, “Okay, I will boss.”

He stepped out of the captain's quarters and was immediately blinded by the bright sun. He held his hand over his eyes, wishing he had worn his hat and that it wasn't sitting on top of his dresser.

When the spots had dissipated from his vision, he scanned the deck of the ship. If his clock had been right when he had left his room, it was roughly nine, just when breakfast was finishing up and the deck was starting to get crowded. Luckily, Kurt's white button-up was easy to pick out in a sea of short-sleeves and bare torsos (the latter thanks to Pause for setting that trend).

Beef called out, "Kurt! To the wheel!" and turned to make his way to the small staircase that led to the poop deck.

He didn't have to wait long for Kurt to join him beside the wheel.

With a bright smile, the first mate loudly said, "Set us on a course for the Asylum Chain!"

A few people on deck cheered upon hearing the order because they knew that it meant that soon, they wouldn’t have to work. For an entire three days, they could spend all their time at bars drinking and with pleasurable company.

Kurt looked at the cheering crew to Beef, brow furrowed, "The... what?"

Beef's smile faded, "You know, the Asylum Chain?”

Kurt slowly shook his head, confusion still evident as Beef tried again.

“The Knozims Chain?”

Nothing. The crew was now quiet, watching the exchange with rapt attention.

“The Horseshoe?”

Still nothing.

“Pirate Haven?"

Kurt shook his head reluctantly, biting his lip. It was obvious he did not like the attention their conversation was getting and Beef couldn’t help but agree. The two had grown close and the last thing he wanted was to make his friend embarrassed.

"I...okay," Beef scrubbed a hand over his face. He turned sharply toward the crew, stalking closer to the lower deck and barking out orders to get back to work. He usually wasn’t so harsh to the crew, but his main goal right now was to divert attention away from them at the wheel. The crew hastily acted like they had seen nothing, getting back to their daily chores. Beef breathed a small sigh of relief.

He quickly scanned the deck for one person in particular. When he found him, he made a subtle motion for him to come to the wheel.

Paul Soares Jr, their old navigator, walked as quickly as he could to the wheel. He wasn’t as good as Kurt was (but there really was no other navigator like Kurt), but he knew his way around interpreting maps and that like. More importantly, he knew the way to the Asylum Chain like the back of his hand.

When he got to the wheel, he didn’t ask any questions. He just got behind it and glanced at some of the maps Kurt had left last he was steering the boat. With a few calculations in his head and a look through his sextant, he turned the Mindcrack in the direction she needed to go.

Quietly, he told Beef, “We should arrive in one to two days.”

He nodded, glad he had gotten that moment over with quickly. Turning around, he meant to dismiss Kurt and have him return to his chores, but he saw no one but PSJ. He sighed, mentally cursing himself as he walked down the staircase, ready to continue on with his day and hopefully find Kurt and apologize to him.

-*-*-*-*-

Two days later, the sky was a light gray color as the _Mindcrack_ cut through the sea. White seagulls and other birds cawed to each other, some even landing on the ropes of the ship before being shooed away by Baj. Low clouds hovered over the placid waters, making it difficult for PSJ to navigate, but it didn't matter. Every crew member, save for Kurt, could feel it in the bones that they were close. After taking the same course over and over to the same islands, it wasn't a wonder that they had an internal compass pointing directly to the Asylum Chain.

Zisteau folded his arms over the railing at the bow. A small smile grew on his lips as the _Mindcrack_ parted through the mist.

"Hello Horseshoe, did you miss us?" he mumbled to himself as the familiar chain of islands appeared into view.

The Knozims Chain was made up of 5 islands; 2 large ones and 3 smaller ones. All of them together created a crude "U" shape with the two larger islands as the top and the smaller ones as the curve. The large island to the east, where most of the shops and bars and taverns were, was considered the main one. The other big one was mainly used as a place to get repairs on everything from compasses to clothing to ships. The three other islands were mainly rocky and covered with forests, so little to no people stopped there.

As the _Mindcrack_ came into port, the rest of the crew was busying themselves, gathering together everything they'd need for a few days of fun. Guude stepped on to the upper deck to remind everyone that they were leaving in three days’ time and that if they weren't on board by then he'd "Send Baj to collect you, and trust me when I say you do not want to see Baj hungover".

Zisteau left his spot at the front as Etho jumped over the railing on to the dock to tie up the ship. He weaved his way through the throng of people anxious to get off the ship. Luckily, the staircase down was clear and he stepped down to his room.

He pushed open the door, only slightly surprised to see Kurt standing by one of the counters, cleaning his gun.

"Don't think you'll need that here," he said off-handedly, making Kurt jump slightly. He continued to his pack as his roommate began to reassemble his gun.

"Well..."Kurt said stiffly, clicking pieces into place, "You never know who you may run into."

The other man snorted, "Trust me, when you’re on a group of islands whose nickname is the ‘Asylum Chain’, you don't run into many people who are looking for a fight. And even if one does break out, it's usually handled quickly."

Kurt made a noncommittal noise, gun pieces still clicking together. Zisteau glanced at his roommate as he walked into the room, getting his pack out from under a shelf. As he filled it with what he’d need, the space between them became awkward and the silence heavier. After a few minutes of this, he couldn't help but get the feeling that he was getting the cold shoulder.

He sighed, dropping the flask into his pack. He turned around, back to the counter with arms crossed.

"Alright, what's wrong?"

Kurt turned his head, but didn't look at him, "Nothing."

"Bullshit," Zisteau quickly shot back, "it's because you didn't know about the Asylum Chain, isn't it? You're still hung up about it."

Kurt's shoulders tensed. "So what?"

Zisteau walked so he was behind his friend. "You know, Avidya didn't know what it was when he joined the _Mindcrack_ either."

"Yeah, but wasn’t he a merchant before joining? I've been a pirate for just about 10 years of my life and to not know about this 'Pirate Haven'... It just-"

"Makes you feel pretty stupid?"

"Exactly!" Kurt spun around, light clear in his eyes.

"Well, I think you can forgive yourself for this one. I mean," he glanced down at the floor, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say, "I… I’ve heard the Emerald isn't all fun and games."

Kurt snorted, ducking his head down, "That's an understatement."

"And really all we ever do on the Asylum Chain is have fun. So you don't have to beat yourself up for this."

"I guess you're right."

Kurt's shoulders slowly relaxed. Zisteau smiled, ignoring how his stomach knotted itself after making Kurt feel better about himself. He slapped a hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Come on, pretty sure everyone's off ship now. Let's go get drunk!"

-*-*-*-*-

There wasn't any drinking until the last night on the Horseshoe, when the two had stumbled upon several crew members wandering the dirt streets, trying to find some other crew members to get hammered with (or rather, all of them get hammered while Beef sat off to the side, watching them make fools of themselves).

Zisteau had spent the first day showing Kurt around the main island. They had looked at practically every shop and building (except the brothel, which made Kurt blush when he realized what it was and Zisteau let out a storm of innuendo, which landed him a punch to the arm for the really bad ones). He had shown Kurt all the best places to eat, get a new gun or sword, and best places to get drunk. The second day had been spent on the other large island. Zisteau's gun had been misfiring too often in practice while Kurt's cutlass had a large chip in it.

So the last day was left for drinking, and there was only one place Zisteau trusted to get good drinks on the island:

The Dancing Lute.

It was one of the first buildings you could see after making port. Despite other buildings that were hidden from sight by large palm trees and brush, The Dancing Lute was in full view from the port. It was a huge place, with three floors and a large patio out on the front with a pink and white striped awning hanging over and several rocking chairs. It had a dark wood exterior with light oak for the interior. The large windows on the first floor brought in all the natural light and were adorned with potted plants near its base.

On the inside, each floor was something different. The third floor was where Aureylian lived, the second had several small rooms that someone could rent for a night or two, and the first floor held the main attraction.

The first floor was the bar.

Most of the left wall was taken up by the bar, with a multitude of colored bottles and glasses shelved on the wall. The rest of the floor space was packed with tables and chairs, with the far right corner cleared out for music (and the occasional dance, if people got drunk enough).

"Hey Aureylian!" Zisteau called from by the front entrance.

The woman at the bar perked up at that, turning towards the door. She was pretty tall, with long, wavy red hair flowing down her back. She wore a dark red blouse held up by a leather corset. None of the men could see, but they all knew she kept herself armed and ready, with knives and guns hidden wherever she could reach.

When she saw the familiar faces, she grinned and waved them over. It took a little while to make their way through the throng of tables and drunks, but they managed to all get stools at the bar next to one another, with Beef farthest left, then Pause, Zisteau, Kurt, Avidya, and Coe sitting closest to the door. Aureylian took care of her other customer quickly before moving on to the group of five.

"Hey boys," she greeted, leaning her hands on the counter, "I see someone here that I don't recognize, which is saying something because everybody passes through the Horseshoe."

Kurt introduced himself, "I only joined a couple months ago."

"Yep," Zisteau said. He clapped a hand on Kurt's shoulder, only making him jump slightly, "Found him half stranded on a piece of wood in the ocean and brought him up.

Pause snorted, "Oh there is so much more than that. Zisteau was the first to spot him and then when everybody was deciding whether or not to bring him on board- because we didn't know who he was- guess what he did?"

Before Zisteau could slap him, Aureylian piped up and asked, "What? What did he do?"

He continued, smirking, "He fucking striped down to his pants and jumped overboard! Just like that! With not a care in the world about whether this man is dead or dangerous or whether there were goddamn sharks in the water, just started swimming up to him. By the time we had gotten a rowboat ready to save their sorry asses, he had already started dragging Kurt, who we had no idea was actually from the _Emerald_ , toward- OW!”

Pause's monologue was cut off by Beef slapping him upside the head.

"That's enough, Pause. You're not even drunk yet and you're already making a fool out of yourself."

The bowman rubbed the spot where Beef had hit him, glaring, before turning to Aureylian with a smile. "Speaking of getting drunk, why don't we start doing that?"

The barmaid looked to Zisteau who looked at Kurt. He seemed unshaken by the mention of the Emerald and he took that as a good sign.

Fucking Pause bringing up memories. Fucking Pause stretching the truth. That's not how it happened.

He looked back to Aurey, and gave a slight nod.

"We'll take 2 rums, a whiskey and 2 scotches."

Beef cut in, "And one water."

"And put it on Guude's tab!" Coe said.

"Alrighty, got that coming up," Aureylian smiled, starting on the drinks.

There were a few moments of silence as she prepared the drinks, but they guys didn't mind. They were content to just sit back and either take a look around the bar or, like Zisteau loved to do, people watch. Bars always had interesting characters, from old men who spouted stories about far off lands of magic and mystery, to girls with vibrant colored hair and others with little clothing on. There were a few people who he deemed interesting enough to spy tonight; a loud man who claimed he had died and come back to life, a girl (barely even a woman) who was casually shooting the breeze with some of the more intimidating men like it was nothing, and a man in the back, hidden by shadows, who wasn't doing anything but like Zisteau, was looking at the crowd of people, specifically his eyes seemed trained on the bar.

The sound of his drink being placed on the bar top snapped him out of his thoughts. As he turned to down his scotch, all the people he had taken note over had disappeared out of his memory, as most inconsequential things do.

He placed his glass on the table after drinking more than half and turned toward the barmaid, who was pouring Pause and Coe’s drinks.

"So what did you and Guude do this time?" he asked.

Aureylian looked up and smiled.

"A lot, actually. To make up for the time we missed, he finally taught me how to fire a pistol like he promised."

"How'd you do?" Kurt, who had been listening in, asked.

She giggled, "Not bad, apparently. I mean, I hit the actual target three out of the seven times, which is apparently good for a beginner."

Zisteau nodded, downing the last of his drink. "I remember I could hit anything when I was young. I may have hit it once out of like ten tries."

"Well I guess I'm a natural then," Aurey giggled.

She turned to Kurt, the determination to get to know him better clear on her face. "What about you? How were you your first time with a gun?"

-*-*-*-*-

As the night wore on, they continued to talk; swapping stories of their first times with guns and swords. Pause told and exceptionally funny tale of how he had accidentally shot the hat off of someone’s head when he was first learning. Coe told about his first time with a sword and how he has taken a wrong swing at a target and managed to lodge his blade deep into a tree trunk. When they were all about 3 drinks in, their tongues began to loosen and their pool of topics grew wider.

"I still can't believe you haven't been to the Asylum Chain!" Z exclaimed, not quite slurring yet, but getting close.

Pause stepped in, "Yeah, we go there, what, three times a month, if we're not busy."

"But aren't a lot of those visits for trading and whatnot?" Kurt said. He was much more sober than the two of them, yet drunk enough not to be affected by the question.

"True," Coe said, "but we manage to get in one or two drinks in."

Beef laughed, "Or three or four or five or six."

"Beeeeef,” Pause whined, “You're making us look bad."

"Oh really?" he smirked, "I didn't know you guys needed help with that."

“Oh fuck off,” Pause replied, making a feeble attempt to push at his friend.

Behind them, the musicians, who had just been playing some slow sea shanty, picked up their instruments with renewed vigor and started playing a faster song, something more suitable for dancing. One by one, people all over the Dancing Lute began to congregate on to the area specified for dancing and before long people had to start pushing aside tables and chairs to make more room. Pause was now pulling on Beef’s arm, trying to get him to hurry while Beef was doing his best to get Kurt to join in.

“Come on, Kurt, it’s just dancing!” he exclaimed.

“I’m not really one for dancing,” Kurt replied, eyes flickering from his half empty glass of scotch to Beef.

Zisteau, who had previously had been just eavesdropping in on the conversation piped in.

"Well that's because you haven't had the right music," he pointed to the band in the corner, "Now there's a band who knows how to play."

"Oh," Kurt said, putting down his glass and turning toward Zisteau, "you've heard them play before?"

"Never before tonight," Zisteau admitted with a grin, "but if they're good enough for Aurey, they're good enough for me." He leaned against the counter, "Right, Aurey?"

Aureylian looked up from the other side of the bar, taking her eyes off pouring a couple of drinks for a couple of men. She gave a thumbs-up before returning to the drinks.

He looked back to Kurt and the others. "See?! She agrees!"

"That's only cause she can’t hear you," Pause said, half accusingly.

"Hey, I'm trying to help you two get Kurt off his ass. Don't go disproving me!"

Pause shrugged, grabbing onto Beef's arm, "Eh, I just want to get Beefy-kins in the dance floor with me," he turned, half dragging Beef away from the bar, "If you want to come, join us!"

When the two left, Zisteau looked at Kurt. The man's face was flushed, presumably from the alcohol. He was trying to covertly look at the band and crowd of people around it, but he wasn't doing such a good job of it.

Zisteau sighed, downing the last of his scotch in one go. He wasn't such a big fan of dancing, but for a friend- for Kurt, he was willing to do it.

Standing up, he walked so he was right in front of Kurt's view of the band and held out his hand. Kurt looked up, eyes traveling all the way up his body. He raised a single eyebrow in response, to which Zisteau sighed, not doing a damn thing to hide his exasperation.

"I don't want to watch you pine over the dance floor all night. So come on."

And Kurt did so, standing up and taking Zisteau's hand, something he wasn't expecting but was perfectly fine with. They walked to the area designated for dancing, which was almost the size of the entire floor by now, weaving in and out between people walking (and sometimes stumbling).

When they got closer to the band, the musicians were playing something heavy on drums, but with enough violin to get every person nearby dancing, and soon enough, everyone was moving their body this way and that, no one knowing the proper moves but with no one caring. The two looked to each other, neither have expecting what they got the other into. Finally, they grabbed the others hands and started dancing, letting the music tell them where to put their feet.

The songs ran together, a never ending cycle of fast and slow with Kurt and Zisteau feeling like they were in the center of it all, spinning and turning around each other. They had long since let go of their inhibitions, laughing when they accidentally bumped into someone else before they were at it again, moving with the song and the body of people around them. Zisteau was barely aware that he had let go of Kurt’s hands early on and now had his arms wrapped around Kurt’s waist.

He was finally beginning to see the appeal of dancing.

As the latest song slowed down and the two of them stopped laughing after nearly stepping on each other’s toes multiple times, their gazes locked and as Zisteau started into Kurt’s eyes, there was no question in them as to what to do next. He leaned across, eyes closing slowly and-

Pause butted in just at the last minute, as the band began to play a lively song.

“Partner switch! I call Zistykins!”

Zisteau stood in shock as Pause took Kurt’s place and he went over to where Beef was. It took Pause nudging him several times and other people bumping into him to get him to pick up his feet and dance along.

“What the hell was that?!” he exclaimed, shock and fury still evident. “I was gonna-”

“I know what you were going to do, you idiot, that’s why I did it!” Pause replied.

“What…?”

“You’re drunk, Z! How do you know that you wouldn’t have regretted that in the morning?”

“Because-” But he had no good answer. He was drunk, pretty damn drunk, so anything he said would be the drunk in him saying it.

Pause continued, “And how do you know Kurt wouldn’t of regretted it? What if you guys stopped talking cause it would be too awkward? Huh?”

Zisteau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He didn’t want to think of that, didn’t want to think of how his life was before meeting Kurt. Man, he hated when Pause was right, especially drunk Pause.

“Fine, I get it. You made your point. Now let’s dance, you asshole.”

Pause grinned, clearly happy with himself.

They danced for several fast songs and Zisteau couldn’t help but look into the crowd to see where Kurt and Beef were. When he was able to pick them out of the mob of people, all he could see was them laughing together, swaying with each other and looking like they were having the time of their lives.

He couldn’t help the constricting feeling on his heart.

When they parted and went back to their original partners, Pause gave him a pointed look before going back to Beef. Zisteau attention immediately zoned back to Kurt, who was smiling and sweating and looking happier than Zisteau had ever seen him.

This is much better. This is how it should be.

Finally, after what seemed like hours upon hours of dancing, the band started to play slower songs and after a brief look at one another, took that as their cue to stop dancing for the night. The two made their way back to the bar, both drenched with sweat and panting lightly. They sank into their stools, muscles aching, but it was a pleasant ache. It was the ache of doing something worthwhile. Zisteau raised his hand to call for Aureylian, but before he could wave, two glasses of scotch were put down in front to them. Both drank greedily, Kurt almost downing the entire glass in one go.

Zisteau smacked his lips when he was done with his glass. "Thank you Aureylian, you are a lifesaver."

"I think that's the first time anyone has mistaken me for her, but thanks," Zisteau turned to look and, sure enough, Aureylian wasn’t there. Instead, a man with tanned skin, brown hair, and wearing a brown tunic had taken Aurey's place as bartender. "She left a while ago, by the way."

He pointed to himself, "I'm Sevadus, but most people call me Sev."

Zisteau held out his hand to shake. "Guess we should be thanking you then for this life saving scotch."

Sev laughed, taking Zisteau's hand. "Yep! Well, if you need any more of it, holler and I'll fill it up."

-*-*-*-*-

As the night wore on, the music got fainter and the dance floor got smaller as more people decided to move tables back to sit and drink for the rest of the night. Sev had to refill the gas lamps several times before giving up and just dimming half of them, shrouding the half of the inn not by the bar in shadows. By now, Beef and Pause had rejoined them by the bar with Coe and Avidya nowhere to be found, probably having rented a room. And they all were beyond the point of tipsiness, swaying slightly in their chairs and slurring words.

Of course, Beef was still completely sober, which led to some interesting conversations between him and Pause

"Hey Beef!"

"Mmmmm?" Beef was still holding on to his water, more tired than anything.

"I don't think we need to go treasure hunting anymore."

Beef sighed, "And why's that, Pause?"

"You got all the booty I need.” Pause leaned over Beef, making pathetic attempts at grabbing said booty.

Beef sighed again, putting a hand at Pause’s chest to stop him from getting any closer. "If Etho could hear you right now, I don't think you'd have hands."

Pause tried reaching a few more times, each one not getting any closer than the last, before eventually giving up, leaning back with a huff.

“Spoilsport.”

And to Zisteau’s surprise, Kurt also got chatty as he got drunker.

“How come you always have your collar turned up?” Kurt asked, head tilted drastically to the side.

Zisteau faltered in response. The rest of the crew and his friends had just accepted the fact that that was how he wore collared shirts, he had never been asked that. When the silence continued, Kurt leaned forward.

“You’d look better,” Kurt said, “like this.” He set down his drink and dragged his hands up Zisteau’s shirt, fingertips just barely touching the fabric. He gripped the collar and shifted his hands so they were in position to fix his collar, but before he could do that, Zisteau grabbed Kurt’s wrists in a grip that was probably too tight, but he didn’t really care right now. He brought Kurt’s hands down and away from his collar.

“I didn’t know you were an expert on fashion, Kurt,” he said, a pathetic attempt to forget what just happened.

He let go of Kurt’s hands then. He pulled them back almost immediately, holding his hands close to his body as he rubbed circles where the surgeon had grabbed him. Zisteau felt a stab of pain go toward his heart when he saw the red marks he had left on Kurt’s wrist.

I didn’t mean to hurt you! I just- ugh… Way to ruin the night, Z.

The two fell into awkward silence. Zisteau turned toward the bar, sipping his drink and mentally berating himself for what just happened. Kurt turned the other way, mindlessly staring at the far wall. Their friends just looked to one another, silently communicating before making their way out of the bar, letting the two have their space.

Sev put two more scotches in front of them, the small _tink_ of them hitting the table sounding loud in their ears while still being drowned out by the noises of the rest of the place. Zisteau grabbed his, taking a drink and glancing as Kurt took his.

The sound of glass breaking nearby made Zisteau go stiff for a moment, almost making him drop his glass. He turned to see Kurt, pale faced and back rigid. His right hand was holding an invisible drink, his real glass shattered on the floor. Zisteau put his hand on Kurt’s shoulder and was surprised when Kurt jumped a mile off of his seat.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Zisteau said softly. Kurt whipped around so he was facing Zisteau, panting heavily. Zisteau risked touching him again and was mildly happy that Kurt didn’t jump this time. Maintaining eye contact, he massaged Kurt’s shoulder, hoping that would help calm his friend down.

Around them, a few people were staring, muttering to one another while Sev walked around the bar, towel in hand. Kurt suddenly snapped his head to look back at the wall, breathing much more normally. He looked down, noticing the broken glass for the first time.

“Oh man, I- I’m sor-”

“It’s okay,” Sev said, “Happens all the time with usually more things broken. It’s nothing.”

Kurt didn’t seem convinced, but let it go anyway. He looked back to Zisteau, who was still grabbing his shoulder and staring at him.

“I didn’t mean-”

"Shhh, that doesn’t matter,” Zisteau said quietly. “You okay? It looks like you just saw a ghost."

Kurt swallowed, eyes flickering back to the wall, "I- I'm okay. I'll just, uh, I'm just going to get some fresh air. Bit stuffy here."

Shrugging off Zisteau’s hand, Kurt got up off the stood and headed towards the door, gaining speed with every step he took. Zisteau dug his nails into the bar top, wanting nothing more than to follow Kurt, but knowing he needed his space.

_Whatever scared him is still in this place. Now what was he looking at?_

Zisteau’s eyes scanned where Kurt had been looking at. There was nothing unusual; no pieces of paper pinned to the wall, no messages, nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that could've possibly upset Kurt was the man.

He got up, trying to remain inconspicuous while getting closer to the man in the shadows.

The man looked, well, not normal, but not abnormal either. He was tall and probably would looks taller if he wasn’t leaned up against the wall. His black hair was slicked back. He was wearing black pants and a gray vest, showing off multiple scars on his chest and arms and also a large tattoo. From what he could see, it was a large black serpent of some sort, winding up and around his left arm. The head was hidden by his vest, but he was betting that its jaws were open, ready to strike.

One of the strangest things about the man was that despite Z never having seen this man before today, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd seen him before.

So of course, as the feeling lingered, Zisteau's drunken rationale increased and he decided to go right up and tell the guy just that.

As he got face to face with the man, he didn’t move. In fact, he seemed unscathed by Zisteau’s presence.

"You look familiar," Zisteau said, squinting his eyes, "have I threatened you before?"

The man only smiled and said, in a gravelly voice, "Trust me, if you have, you wouldn't be talking."

The man turned around and walked away. As he did so, he made a very deliberate attempt of reaching around and scratching his back, revealing part of the serpent’s head, which did look open.

"What a dick," Z muttered to himself.

Zisteau waked away, headed towards the exit, but not without leaving a generous tip for Sevadus and Aurey.

Outside was much cooler, a constant wind making gas lamps flicker and gave the street an eerie feel. The street itself was quiet, as were most of the buildings. Had he not just come out of the bustling bar, he would’ve felt like he and Kurt were the only two people on the island, and wouldn’t that be interesting?

Kurt was sitting in one of the rickety wooden chairs on the patio. His hands were clasped together, head on top of them, staring straight ahead at nothing. If he noticed Zisteau’s presence, he didn’t comment, too lost in his own train of thought.

The ship’s surgeon made no move to disrupt the silence. He just moved out on the way of the door and Kurt, content to lean against a wall.

It was only when the sky started to lighten did he speak.

“Ready to head back?”

Kurt looked up, not as quick to snap out of his daze as he would have if he wasn’t drunk.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking for a moment. He dropped his hands and got up, stretching his arms over his head.

“I’m ready.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Shirtless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128892) by [bio_at](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bio_at/pseuds/bio_at)
  * [Catnip](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272581) by [bio_at](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bio_at/pseuds/bio_at)




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